A Chance Unexpected
by MythRunner
Summary: Harry James Potter had come to expect many things in his life. However, being thrown into a world that was so familiar, yet so foreign, was not something that he had ever anticipated. AU/Dimension Travel.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, nor will I ever own it. The following is based on the plots, themes, and characters created by JK Rowling. I am but a humble fan, who finds entertainment in writing stories based off of her masterpiece._

**_AN:_**_So I've had some people pestering me to put this back up. I've decided to acquiesce to their requests. The chapters have been edited since I posted them last. Whether I will continue the story, I'm not entirely sure. Nonetheless, you'll have the chapters I've already written._

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**A Chance Unexpected**

–

**MythRunner**

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**Prologue**

He had come to expect many things in his life. There was a constant, repetitive pattern after all. The Dursleys hated him, the kids at primary school hated him, his old Muggle teachers thought him a liar, the residents of Privet Drive and surrounding areas thought him a ruffian troublemaker, and then there was the entire population of the British Wizarding World, who thought of him as their grand hero one minute and an attention seeking, antagonizing, impetuous child the next.

Really, he had come to expect many things in his short life. Duplicity and outright hostility from the masses and those who were supposed to care for him was on the top of the list of things that he had come to expect. However, he had never expected to be betrayed by his friends, the ones who didn't have to care but cared anyways. This … this was new, and he, Harry James Potter, was not a fan.

"Don't look at me like that, Harry," Hermione snapped with tears in her eyes. "This is for your own good. You'll see."

He glared at her through the bars of his cell; the cell that she had just tricked him into entering, before promptly shutting the door behind him. He had thought it odd that Kingsley, or rather Minister Shacklebolt, had wanted him to look over a security issue with the holding cells. He was still in training to become an Auror. He shouldn't have been the Minister's first choice to do the inspection. However, Hermione, who was apprenticing as a Runes Master in the Department of Mysteries, had convinced him that the two of them were more than up to the task. The sly mention of how busy all the certified Aurors were with capturing the remaining Death Eaters had him agreeing without question.

Merlin, he should have known. He really should have learned by now. Too many times in his life he'd been betrayed by the people around him. He should have expected that something like this would eventually happen.

"And what exactly have I done to deserve imprisonment?" Harry glared furiously at the girl, who he had counted as one of his closest friends not two minutes ago.

"We both know what sort of curses you've used over the last couple of years." Hermione took a step back from the bars of the cell with a mournful look. "It's a life sentence in Azkaban, Harry. Did you really think that people would just let you get away with it?"

"You were right there beside me! We were at war!" Harry exclaimed furiously, upon realizing she was talking about the Imperius Curses that he had had to use on Bogrod and Travers. "You know that I had to do it. We wouldn't have survived the break in, if I hadn't. I had to, Hermione. You know that!"

"You had to … just like the Cruciatus Curse that you used at the end of fifth year?" Hermione jutted her jaw stubbornly, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. "Your use of the Imperius Curse is one thing – yes, we would have been discovered, if you hadn't used it – but the Cruciatus, Harry! How could you?"

"How'd you even find out about that?" Harry reeled back from the bars, as if she had just physically struck him. He hadn't thought that anyone knew about what he had done to Bellatrix.

"Professor Dumbledore left behind memories to be unveiled after the war." Hermione straightened her shoulders importantly. "He specified that the entire Order of the Phoenix, excluding you, were to watch them. All of them … they were all about you! It was an entire pensieve of your life through his eyes! You may have tricked us, Harry, but you didn't fool him. He knew you for what you were from the very beginning!"

"Yeah, and what exactly is that?" Harry asked snidely, anger radiating off of him. Oh, he really should have expected this. He should have known that he wouldn't get to live a happy life in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat. The fact that it was the Great Albus Dumbledore who had found a way to mess up his life now that Voldemort was no longer alive to do so, despite the old wizard being nothing more than a corpse encased within a tome, was not as surprising as it would have been just a few months ago.

"The next Dark Lord," Hermione said with narrowed, accusatory eyes, before abruptly turning on her heel and storming away with audible sobs escaping her lips.

Before Harry could restrain himself, his anger and frustration overcame him and he crashed his fist with the cold, stone wall of the cell. He let out a yell of fury and pain, as he gripped his shatter hand and cursed every deity under the sun for the shit life that had been handed to him. It wasn't until he felt the spike of magic and the stir of energy in the air that he looked back to the wall that he had just punched. His eyes widened in horror, upon seeing the visible dent and various cracks breaking across the smooth, stone surface, spreading before his very eyes, crawling all along the wall to wrap the entire cell.

"Fuck!" Harry cursed furiously and backed away towards the bars behind him. He had done something. He had definitely done something. Magic wasn't supposed to be possible in the holding cells, but he had most definitely done _some _sort of magic! The way that the stone continued to crack and crumble around him was in no way due to his natural strength.

"GUARD! GUARD!" Harry yelled in desperation, as the stone began to break away from the walls and ceiling, coating him with dust and debris.

Whatever the response was from the guard on duty, if there had been a response at all, Harry did not hear, as at that precise moment the stone fell away completely with a force that was in no way natural, revealing a black void and leaving him standing on the edge with only the bars of the cell to hold onto. Magic surged around him, flooding his senses and pulling him relentlessly towards the open void before him. The last thing he knew, before unconsciousness overwhelmed him, was the sensation of falling.


	2. A New World

**Chapter 1: A New World**

"– not sure," said a soft, female voice. The woman sounded nervous. "He is no student that I've ever treated before. I'd recognize him for that scar, if I had. It is awfully peculiar … a mark of a dark curse, if I'm not mistaken."

"I suppose he isn't one of our students then," said an elderly man, sounding disappointed.

"Then why …?" the woman asked, alarm now evident in her voice.

"Friend or foe, it is best that he remains here within our care," the man said. "For now, please treat him as you would any other patient."

"Shouldn't we restrain him at the very least?" the woman asked with unease. "Mightn't he be dangerous?"

"He might. Though, I believe restraints to be unnecessary. If I've assessed the situation correctly, which I do believe that I have, his waking will be disconcerting enough for him."

"If you're sure …" the woman said, sounding as if she thought better of leaving the patient unrestrained.

"Do inform me, when he wakes." The man's request was follow by the echo of footsteps on stone and the sound of a set of doors opening and then closing soon after.

Questions raced through Harry's groggy mind, as consciousness slowly returned to him and he attempted to process the conversation that he had just overheard. Not only was he fairly certain that the conversation had been about him, but he was certain that one of the two voices that he had heard belonged to someone who he knew to be dead, while the other belonged to someone who he knew to be alive. He attempted to rack his still sleep jumbled mind for a plausible explanation for how it was possible that Albus Dumbledore had been conversing with Madam Pomfrey not feet away from him, but could not come up with anything other than a hazy memory that involved Hermione, the DMLE holding cells, and a black void. The more he thought on the memory, the more confused he became.

Nothing made sense. If Hermione truly believed him to be the next Dark Lord, why was he lying in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing (or so he assumed that he was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing)? Why hadn't he been carted off to Azkaban already? If it had truly been Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who he had heard speaking just now, why had Dumbledore said that he didn't believe him to be dangerous enough to require restraints, when the man had left memories behind after his death that clearly indicated that he believed otherwise? For that matter, why had both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore spoke of him without recognition? Not to mention, how in the hell was Dumbledore even alive? Or had the void killed him, and the real question that he ought to be asking was: when had Madam Pomfrey died?

The sound of footsteps approaching his bed quickly pulled Harry out of his troubled thoughts. Knowing that his conscious state would be discovered by Madam Pomfrey the second that she got close enough to get a good look at him, he decided to face the perplexing situation head on. He had no clue what was going on, but he knew that there was only one way to get answers.

As expected, upon opening his eyes, he found himself surrounded by the familiar walls of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey was but a few paces from him.

"Good afternoon, young man," Madam Pomfrey said, after visibly pulling herself together. It was plain to see that she had not expected him to be awake. "I am Madam Pomfrey, Medi-Witch of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I've been charged with overseeing your recovery. Would you mind telling me your name?"

"Er …" Harry said.

"You do remember your name, don't you?" the medi-witch asked, looking suddenly worried.

"I … I'm not sure," Harry lied. The entire situation was suspect whether he was alive or dead. Madam Pomfrey ought to know his name without needing to ask.

"Do you remember your parents' names, perhaps?" Madam Pomfrey asked, grabbing up his chart from his bedside table and making several markings on it with a self-inking quill.

"N-no," Harry said, doing his best to appear disturbed at being unable to remember his past, which wasn't a hard act to carry out seeing as the situation was disturbing in and of itself. One minute he had thought that he'd been betrayed and was set for Azkaban, the next he was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey hadn't a clue who he was. Something was very wrong.

"Hmm," Madam Pomfrey hummed ominously, while making more marks on his chart. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Harry screwed up his face and pretended to attempt to retrieve his forgotten memories, deciding to play up his false amnesia for the moment. "I don't – there's nothing there … W-why don't I remember?"

Madam Pomfrey scowled, looking up at from his chart. "I'll have to run some additional tests to find out. Your initial scan didn't show any head trauma, just exhaustion, a broken hand, and a few bumps and bruises. However, if the trauma was minuscule enough, a standard scan wouldn't have picked it up. For now, it is best that you rest," she said decisively, giving him a somewhat forced smile. "If you need anything, just call out. I'll be in my office right over there." She pointed to an open door at the far end of the hospital wing. "I'll return to check on you and conduct an in depth brain scan in a bit."

"Okay," Harry said uncertainly, feeling disconcerted by Madam Pomfrey's lack of familiarity with him. It just wasn't right, not after all the times she'd mended him after the many scraps he'd gotten himself into during his Hogwarts days and after the war.

As the matron walked away, Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and looked about his surroundings, taking everything in with a critical eye. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that he was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Just as he remembered it, there were beds lining the stone walls, each adorned with white sheets and cotton pillows and beside tables placed on either side. Beside the entrance to Madam Pomfrey's office was a supply cupboard of potions and various other medical supplies. The windows at the far end of the wing looked out over the Black Lake and the edge of the Forbidden Forests with high mountains extending off in the distance. While nothing seemed out of place, something was definitely off. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it wasn't only Madam Pomfrey's behavior that lacked familiarity.

With a huff, Harry laid back in bed. He had no clue what the hell was going on, but whatever it was, he sincerely doubted that it would bode well for him. While it was entirely possible that he was dead, he sincerely doubted it. Surely, if he were dead, he wouldn't wake up in an imitation of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Not to mention, Madam Pomfrey was most definitely alive the last that he had heard.

Before he could get any deeper in thought about his predicament, the doors of the Hospital Wing swung opened with a bang. Upon seeing that even beyond the hospital wing the outside corridor appeared genuine in nature, he completely failed to register who exactly had entered the ward. When he did get around to taking notice of the tall, silver haired wizard, he couldn't help but openly stare. Albus Dumbledore stood before him, appearing completely alive and well. He noted almost immediately that this impostor Dumbledore was a near prefect incarnation of the Dumbledore that he remembered, except for one particular detail. The imposter's hand was not blackened and dead looking, like Dumbledore's had been before his death.

Despite knowing that this Dumbledore had to be a Death Eater or Order member or perhaps a Ministry official in disguise, he felt his anger at his former headmaster rise up within him. Dumbledore had kept so many secrets – secrets that had nearly gotten him and everyone else killed on more than one occasion. Not that it really matter to the old man, if he, Harry, had died. He had always been meant to be the sacrificial lamb of Voldemort's defeat. The old man had played him, led him by subtle manipulations to his ending purpose. It wasn't until the aged wizard's death, that he finally realized how little he had meant to the old headmaster. It wasn't until he viewed Snape's memories, that he had understood why he had been left untrained and why it was him and his just-as-untrained friends, who were sent out on a suicide mission.

The way Dumbledore had played him once again, when they had met in the afterlife at King's Cross Station – the way the old man had distracted him and made him feel sorry for him, as he continued to express remorse over his actions surrounding the Deathly Hallows, yet never actually showed any remorse for setting him up to walk to his death – did little to endear him to the man. It had only proved to him how little Dumbledore had actually cared. It infuriated him that Dumbledore had made him love him like a grandfather and had made him see him as his mentor, when the old man had, in truth, never felt the same level of affection for him. He knew now with absolute certainty that Dumbledore had only ever seen him as being a child who was already dead. He'd never been 'Harry' to the man. He had only ever been the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and the one who would need to die before the war could end. And if he were to believe Hermione's actions and words the day before, Dumbledore had also always seen him as a threat and as someone who needed to be contained early on.

"Good afternoon," the impostor Dumbledore greeted, as he waved his wand and conjured a chair beside Harry's bed.

Harry's eyes widen a fraction of an inch, at seeing the chair that Dumbledore had conjured for himself to sit in. The chair was Dumbledore's signature chair – a chair that was so complex in its design that only someone as well versed in conjuration as Dumbledore could ever possibly hope at conjuring it. He knew now that he was either looking at the master, who had created this fake scenario, or he was looking at the real Albus Dumbledore, who was very much alive. Neither option sat well with him, as the first meant there was a new, magically talented player on the scene and the second left him with no explanation for how such could be possible.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts," Dumbledore introduced, once he was fully settled. "Who might you be?"

"Evan Riddle," Harry said decisively, while keeping his gaze locked on the space just over Dumbledore's right shoulder. He had learned a bit of Occlumency over the last few months of his training, but he hadn't really learned enough to keep out a proficient Legilimens. The man who sat before him was powerful. Even if he wasn't the real Dumbledore, he didn't want to chance that the man knew Legilimency.

"Riddle," Dumbledore said, as if he were tasting the name on his tongue. "A Muggle name, is it not?"

"My father and mother were both magical," Harry said truthfully, as he attempted to get a feel for this Dumbledore's reaction to Lord Voldemort's surname. He had hoped to get a better feel for just who exactly he was dealing with – the surviving Death Eaters, the Order, or the Ministry.

"I see," Dumbledore said, regarding Harry curiously. "How old are you, Mr. Riddle?"

"Seventeen – eighteen in a few days." It didn't really matter whether he answered truthfully or not, Harry knew. The entire Wizarding World already knew who he was, how old he was, and who he cared about. The media had not been very lenient with his desire to live a private life. Nearly everything about his life since his first year at Hogwarts had been plastered across the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ over the last two months. Ron really hadn't been keen on keeping his mouth shut about any of it. His red headed friend was happily riding the high of being famous. Not to mention, nearly everyone else that he had ever held a conversation with had been more than willing to share whatever story that they had about him.

"Do you know how you came to be in one of the Ministry's holding cells?" Dumbledore queried politely.

"I was tricked and then trapped." Harry shrugged, as if he wasn't concerned about it, though he struggled to not show his annoyance and hurt. He was fairly certain that the whole business had been part of this man's setup, as he didn't believe in coincidences. He was being played. This time he could recognize as much.

"Tricked and trapped …? Care to elaborate?" Dumbledore asked with accessing eyes.

"I had just gotten done with a training session, when Hermione Granger told me that Minister Shacklebolt needed us to check the security on the holding cells," Harry began, reiterating the events for the both of them, as he saw no harm in tell this man what they both already knew. He frowned, however, when he was cut off by Dumbledore holding up his hand for silence.

"Minister Shacklebolt?" Dumbledore questioned, his supposed curiosity even more apparent. "I believe you have lost me, Mr. Riddle. What is this about Ms. Granger being at the Ministry during the Summer Holiday, and what exactly do you mean by Minister Shacklebolt?"

"Er … Hermione is apprenticing for a Runes Mastery with one of the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries," Harry said slowly, while wondering what the point was of having him retell well publicized facts.

"And Minister Shacklebolt?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt was officially elected to the position of Minister of Magic last month. He was the highest ranking Ministry official still alive at the end of the war. He was sworn in with a landslide of votes." Harry glowered at his interrogator, as he attempted to figure out what the possible angle was to this particular line of questioning.

The more that Harry thought about his current situation, the more he was convinced that the whole interrogation and setup was just a bit too strange for him to comprehend. The man, this Dumbledore impostor, was clearly after some sort of information – information that he would only give to a person that he supposedly trusted completely, while in an environment that he was comfortable and familiar with. It would have to be some sort of information that was required to be given willingly, like perhaps the secret to a Fidelius, or they would have just used Veritaserum – or resorted to torturing it out of him, in the case of the Death Eaters. What the exact information that they were attempting to get him to reveal was, he couldn't say. If it was the location of the Elder Wand, the lot of them could just forget it. He wouldn't reveal that bit of information in a million years.

"I see," Dumbledore said neutrally, while now studying Harry with a hint apprehension. "And how did the war end?"

"Quite abruptly," Harry said factually with a demeanor that made if perfectly clear that he wasn't about to elaborate.

"Mr. Riddle, please finish explaining how it is you came to be in one of the Ministry's holding cells," Dumbledore requested after a long moment, seeming to decide to forgo pressing Harry for information about the war for the time being.

"As I was saying before, Hermione told me that Minister Shacklebolt wanted us to check the security. I thought it odd that Shack wanted an outsider and a trainee to do it, but dismissed the notion due to how busy the Aurors had been as of late. The second I stepped into the cell to do the inspection, Hermione shut the door behind me. When I asked her to let me out, she refused," Harry said simply, finishing his reiteration of the events.

"Did anything happen after that?" Dumbledore questioned patiently.

"She continued to refuse to let me out, and eventually, she stormed off, leaving me trapped," Harry said blandly.

"And after that?" Dumbledore pressed

"I punched a wall," Harry dead panned.

"Nothing strange occurred, while you were detained?" Dumbledore asked a bit more insistently.

"Well … there was some sort of magical flux that consumed the cell and ripped it into a black void, but I'm pretty sure that I hallucinated that bit." Harry still wasn't entirely certain about the void, but he hardly thought it matter what he may or may not have hallucinated.

"And how do you know Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore inquired, clearly seeking out whatever information Harry was willing to give him.

"We've been best friends since our first year here." Harry indicated to the hospital wing and Hogwarts as a whole. He really couldn't understand why they were going over this. His, Ron, and Hermione's friendship was famous. Even a two year old could tell anyone and everyone who Harry Potter's best friends were.

"You're a Hogwarts student?" Dumbledore asked. His surprise was almost genuine. If Harry hadn't known the man already knew as much, he might have believed the act.

"I _was_ a Hogwarts student," Harry corrected, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity of the question.

"You're an alumnus?" if anything, Dumbledore seemed even more surprised.

"I attended through my sixth year, so I guess you could say that," Harry acknowledged. "I've my OWLs after all."

"Do you mind if I ask why you didn't finish your education?" Dumbledore's lips down-turned at Harry in the way that all educators frowned at hearing of one of their students choosing to end their education early.

"Well, I was kind of on the run at the time ..." Harry trailed off snidely.

"Why were you on the run?" Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"Oh, I don't know. It might have had something to do with the fact that Voldemort wanted to kill me." Harry wished that his interrogator would just get to the point, instead of wasting time with meaningless questions. They were wasting each other's time.

"Why did he want to kill you?"

Harry really, really wanted to curse the man. "For a very ridiculous reason, he got it into his head that I would one day try to kill him. He decided that he needed to kill me, before I would have the chance to kill him. At the time that he decided this, I was just a baby. He attacked my home and murdered my parents. I manage to survive the attack due to my mother sacrificing herself for me, and I've been at odds with him ever since. I can't even count the number of attempts that he has made on my life. Satisfied?"

"Are you familiar with me, Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore asked, after a long moment of thought. "Have we spoken before?"

"Of course, you're Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who isn't familiar with you?" Harry scoffed, before smirking. He was rather interested in the explanation that he would receive for being in the deceased headmaster's presence. "Though, how _you_ are here I can't really say, since you died at the end of my sixth year. Perhaps you could explain that to me, as I am quite confused as to how I'm talking to a dead man."

"How about we go for a walk?" Dumbledore suggested in response. "I believe you may find understanding with a bit of fresh air."

"Okay," Harry agreed easily, while wondering where this was going. He still wasn't in any position to make an escape, and since they didn't seem keen on torturing or even restraining him as long as he played along, he decided it was best to continue on with the charade.

He climbed out of bed and accepted a conjured black robe from the man impersonating Dumbledore. After he slipped it on, he followed the wizard out the double doors of the Hospital Wing. Stepping into the corridor, he received a rather nasty shock. Not only did the hallway appear to be the genuine article, but Sirius Black and another man were positioned just outside the doors and both were decked out in full Auror uniforms. As if it weren't enough to have a living and breathing Sirius Black in front of him, the Auror standing beside Sirius had messy black hair and hazel eyes that were peering out at him from behind square, gold framed glasses. Though the man appeared older than he had in any pictures that Harry had ever seen of him, Harry knew very well who the man was. There was no mistaking that the Auror standing beside Sirius was James Potter.

"Alright there, young man?" Dumbledore questioned, while placing a hand on Harry's arm to steady him.

"I-I think I should just go lay down." Harry took a shaky step back, his stomach churning and his blood pounding in his ear. Try as he might, he couldn't remove his eyes from the wary, yet concerned faces of James Potter and Sirius Black. Mental torture, that had to be what this was. They didn't want information from him. They wanted him in a constant state of pure emotional agony, and with the Dementors gone, this was how they were going to achieve it.

"Do you know these men?" Dumbledore asked, while using a bit of strength to prevent Harry from retreating any farther into the Hospital Wing.

"You know damn well that I know them," Harry snapped at the impersonator. He was through with their game. Let them torture him. Let them kill him for his supposed crimes. He didn't care. Outside of the remaining Weasleys and Hermione, all the people that he had ever cared about and all the people who had ever genuinely cared for him were dead. Though, after being locked in a cell and being accused of being a pending Dark Lord by Hermione, he wasn't even so certain about her or the Weasley's affections towards him.

"Do I?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"I'm done with your little game!" Harry ripped his arm out of Dumbledore's grasp. "I know you're not Dumbledore. I know that they aren't Sirius Black and James Potter. I know that I'm not at Hogwarts. If you want to torture me, kill me, lock me up and throw away the key, then just do it!"

"I assure you, Mr. Riddle, that no one here intends to do any of that," Dumbledore said with a soothing tone.

"Ha!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "You're a fool, if you think I survived the war by luck alone! I'm not so easily deceived. Hermione should have warned you of as much."

"Child, this is no trick." Dumbledore said in a soft voice, as if he were approaching a startled animal that would bolt at even the slightest misstep. "I suspected before, but after all you have told me, I am now certain. If you would just come with me outside, you shall see and I shall explain."

"What part of _I'm done with your game_ did you not understand?" Harry demanded with a menacing glare aimed at the man impersonating Dumbledore. He could feel his hatred rolling off him in waves now. A throat clearing to his right made him aware, once more, that there were two other impostors present. He glared just as darkly in the direction of the two men who dared to impersonate his father and godfather.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, do so solemnly swear on my life and magic that I am, indeed, the first born son of Orion and Walburga Black and that I have no intentions of bring harm to the young man before me."

A gold hue encompassed the man, who was for all appearance Sirius Black. It sunk into him, as his vow was accepted as truth. Harry barely had time to register the meaning of the vow, before the man impersonating James spoke up.

"I, James Charlus Potter, do so solemnly swear on my life and magic that I am the first born son of Charlus and Dorea Potter and that I have no intentions of bring harm to the young man before me."

The same gold hue encompassed the man who was supposedly James Potter, before sinking into him in acceptance of his vow being truth.

Harry just stared at the two men, momentarily stunned into a state of shock. It couldn't be true. There was no way that it could be true. His father had died seventeen years ago, while trying to give his mum enough time to get him and to get them both out of the house. He had watched Sirius fall behind the Veil in the Death Chamber at the end of his fifth year. Not only that, but both had come to him, when he used the resurrection stone just a few months ago. His father and godfather were dead!

"No, no, no, no …" Harry said in denial, while shaking his head and taking several steps backwards. Just like the words leaving his mouth, he was completely unaware of the tears forming in his eyes. All that he was conscious of at the moment were the two men, who were clearly very much alive and who he had loved and looked up to and had accepted to be dead. The sudden tightening of his chest and his sudden inability to breathe properly barely even register with the tidal wave of emotion running through him. "… no, no, no …"

"Shhhh. Here, come and sit." A female voice spoke to him in a gentle tone, as hands directed him to sit on something soft. "You need to breathe, Mr. Riddle. That's it. Big breath in, now let it out. Good. Again, a breath in, and let it out."

Harry focused on the words, doing as they instructed, but his blurred vision remained fixed on the three men who had come to stand in the doorway of the Hospital Wing. Though, his gaze lingered on James Potter longer than the other two. His mind spun at the very thought that his father was alive and standing in front of him. Everything seemed to spin with the possibility, even the Hospital Wing, and he found that just doing as the voice commanded him to was a task that was overly difficult. Through the haze that had become his awareness, he felt the distinct feeling that he would pass out at any second, darkness clawing at his oxygen deprived mind.

"Drink," the voice commanded and a cold glass vial was pressed to his lips.

Harry allowed the contents of the vial to slip into his mouth and down his throat. Almost immediately, his head began to clear. It took him only a moment to calm down enough to realize that it was Madam Pomfrey who had been speaking to him. He blinked at her with uncertainty and confusion.

"Better?" she asked kindly.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said quietly, while trying to come to terms with what he had just witnessed.

"Good," she said, before turning to glare at Dumbledore. "Please refrain from upsetting him so. He's still recovering. I said you could take out him for a walk, not that you could send him into a near panic attack."

"My apologies, Poppy," Dumbledore said sincerely, while looking to the matron with the guilt of a chastised child.

Madam Pomfrey let out a huff, before heading towards her office and muttering about upset patients.

"Th-This is real?" Harry asked unsurely, his eyes flitting over the three men, all of whom were still standing in the doorway of the Hospital Wing and regarding him carefully. "You're real?"

"Yes, everything you see is real." Dumbledore promised sympathetically.

Harry nodded, while shutting his eyes against the refresh wave of tears threatening to fall. This couldn't be happening. The people around him couldn't be who they claimed to be. Dumbledore was dead. His godfather was dead. His father was dead. They were all dead! As in, _not_ alive!

"Will you please come with us, so that you can see for yourself that you are indeed at Hogwarts and this world is just as real as the one you remember?" Dumbledore requested encouragingly.

Pulling himself together and resolving himself to figuring out what exactly was going on, Harry got up and crossed over to the three men. He silently followed them through the familiar halls of Hogwarts, dully noting that the signs of the Final Battle were nowhere to be found and that the castle seemed very much like he remembered it back in his sixth year. It was when he came to stand down by the Black Lake and turned back to see the castle standing proud behind him, that he decided that something _very _unexpected had happened to him.

He now knew without a doubt that he was at Hogwarts and that the three men, who were standing not too far from him, were exactly who they claimed to be. He had no explanation for it. He didn't understand it, but he did understand that the world that he had known all his life had been tipped up on edge. He was a stranger here, in this foreign place … foreign world. This alive James didn't recognize him as his son. This alive Sirius didn't know him as his godson. This alive Dumbledore didn't see him purely as his weapon against Voldemort, let alone know who he actually was. None of them had preconceived notions about him, as they did not know him as the great Harry Potter, neither did they know of the stories and legends that followed his name.

A smile graced his face, as he realized that, in this strange world, he could finally live his life without any the titles or overly embellished, heroic tales. He couldn't help but take a deep breath of air and close his eyes, soaking up the welcoming sun and breathing in the comforting smell of a mid-summer's day. For the first time in his life, he could be 'Just Harry' and could build a reputation from his own actions, instead of from what had happened to him as a baby. In this strange world, he could have a completely clean slate, and he could chose who he wanted to trust this time.

"This isn't my world," Harry stated simply. "You are strangers, who have familiar faces."

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore confirmed apologetically.

"You don't recognize me at all?" Harry asked, wanting to be sure that they really did not know who he was.

"No, you are an unknown here, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore confirmed as well.

"But not complete unknown. You know of my name," Harry said knowingly, while turning to look at the three men silently watching him.

"You are Tom Riddle's grandson, I assume?" Dumbledore said questioningly.

Harry nodded, figuring that his two options were to either continue the charade of being Voldemort's wayward descendant or to own up to being his world's Harry Potter. The name Harry Potter was not a name that he trusted. In fact, it was one that he had come to greatly distrust. He had been Harry Potter for nearly eighteen years, and the name had yet to bring him anything good. One hell storm after another had descended upon him for being _the _Harry Potter. If he could escape such a fate in this world, he would.

"Is he as crazy and homicidal here as he was my world?" Harry asked with clear disdain.

"I believe that is something that we will have to discuss in depth later on, once we have a better understanding of each other," Dumbledore said plainly.

"Right." Harry knew that that was Dumbledore's way of saying that he did not have the old man's trust yet, though he had his sympathy.

"To that point, Mr. Riddle, would you mind giving us a brief description of your life and your world?" Dumbledore inquired, while gesturing to himself and the two Aurors.

"Only if you'll provide me with an explanation for what has happen to me, or at least what you believe has happened to me?" Harry bargained. "As it is, I have no clue as to what actually occurred in that cell, or as to how exactly I have managed to land myself in a world that is not my own."

"Shall we retire to my office then?" Dumbledore suggested with a nod towards the castle.

"I think that would be best," Harry agreed. He recognized that it was him, who was currently at the disadvantage, and it was Dumbledore, who currently held most of the cards. While he understood that there was going to have to be a necessary amount of give and take in the conversation to follow, he had no intentions of being led into anything. He was going to play this his way, by his rules. He had somehow been given a second chance, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste all because some old, meddlesome man found out his true name and his true significance.


	3. Tales of Truth and Lies

**Chapter 2: Tales of Truth and Lies**

"Please, sit," Dumbledore said politely, as he sat himself behind his desk and gestured to the plush armchairs across from him.

Harry finished looking around the circular office, which looked exactly as it had in his world during his Dumbledore's tenure, and settled himself into one of the comfortable chairs facing Dumbledore. He briefly met the man's sapphire eyes, only to divert his gaze a moment later and focus his attention on the spinning, silver instruments off to his left. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice Fawkes peak up at him from under his wing, having obviously only been feigning sleep.

"Understand, Mr. Riddle, I can only give you a theory about what has caused you to travel between worlds. I may be entirely wrong. You may have traveled to this world by a different means," Dumbledore began in a business fashion, as he steeped his fingers over his desk. He paused long enough for Harry to nod his head in confirmation and acceptance, before continuing on. "Your arrival in this world was witnessed by both Aurors Potter and Black. Auror Potter was gracious enough to consent to allow me to witness his memory of the event."

Here Dumbledore paused and gave a grateful nod of his head to the bespectacled Auror standing off to the side of one of the various bookshelves in the room.

"As seen through Auror Potter's eyes," Dumbledore stated clearly and refocused on Harry, "one minute everything was business as normal within Auror Headquarters, and then the next, the wards in the holding area were flaring uncontrollably. Aurors Potter and Black rushed to find the source of the disturbance and arrived outside a cell that seemed to be the epicenter of the magical flux. They were blasted back, just as the ceiling of the cell was ripped away and replaced by a black void. Through hazed consciousness, the two Aurors witnesses a mass materialize out of the void and drift to the floor of the cell. The moment that the mass was settled, all the magic in the air withdrew, and the ceiling of the cell returned."

"So the whole void thing was real? My cell really was sucked up by one in my world, and I really fell into it?" Harry asked, while wondering why insane and extremely odd things always seemed to happen to him.

Dumbledore nodded. "It would seem so. It matches perfectly with your arrival, and it also supports the theory that I have come up with for your unexpected travel through the barrier between this world and your world. During my tenure of working under Nicolas Flamel, Nicolas and I briefly dabbled into the idea of life forces and the effects that the complexities of the universe have on them. In my research, I came across the idea of multiple universes and was quiet taken by it. I managed to uncover an old journal written centuries earlier by a man who claimed to have traveled between the planes of space. He wrote that he had been trying for many years to transverse between the many worlds, and his success of coming to this new world was attributed to a very large source of magic, a set of very complex runes, and a certain mental state."

"Mental state?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"This man had spent year researching something that no one else believed in," Dumbledore said a bit sadly. "For years, he desired to prove everyone wrong. He had put his theories to the test several times, using various power fluxes and similar sets of rune combinations, but he never even got a single inkling that traveling to another world was possible. On his final attempt, he no longer cared to prove everyone wrong; he only desire to be rid of his world. He wanted to find a place, where he wouldn't be the joke of the entire magical community. He wanted to leave it all behind, because he believed there was nothing worth staying for in the world that he had been force to live in."

"I see." Harry sat emotionlessly, as he thought over Hermione's strange behavior and the odd goodbyes he had received from the Weasleys that morning. "This combination of runes and magic…it doesn't depend on a subject's knowledge of them, only that the subject desires to be rid of the life he or she currently leads? The subject could possibly be completely uninformed of what is about to occur at the time the combination is activated?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore responded simply.

"Could you …" Harry began, pausing to lick his suddenly very dry lips, as he came to fully understand what had happened. "You know the runes…and the power requirement?"

"I do," Dumbledore conceded. "The condensed amount of magic that flows through the wards of the holding area in the Auror Headquarters is nearly ideal. It would be the perfect location."

"What triggers the runes?" Harry questioned.

"The touch of the person set to travel between worlds." Dumbledore surveyed Harry knowingly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair., as he released a heavy sigh. His mind was once again spinning in circles, as he tried to come to grips with what he had just learned. He felt an odd combination of hurt, anger, and gratitude at realizing that his last remaining friends were responsible for this, that they had indeed betrayed him – just not entirely in the way he had originally thought. Through their actions they had given him a second chance. Given him what he longed for.

"The rune set would not have activated, if the subject did not want to actually leave his or her world deep within their heart," Dumbledore said factually.

Harry gave a jerky nod in recognition of the information, while still trying to come to terms with the fact that the Weasley, Hermione, and most likely a select few other Order members had set him up for this. He didn't doubt that there had been memories left by Dumbledore. He also didn't doubt that they were all about him and his sad excuse for a life. However, he couldn't help but waver indecisively on what their true motives were for sending him to a different world. He would like to think that none of them had ever believed him to be a pending Dark Lord and that they had sent him away from their world with only the hopes of giving him a second chance and a better life, but he couldn't quite bring himself to discount the possibility that they had believed the worst of him. Even with how upset Hermione had seemed about the whole affair and with how the Weasley's had acted like they hadn't wanted to let him go to work that morning, he couldn't say with certainty that their motives were pure.

Though, admittedly, he hadn't been all that happy in months – or if he were actually being honest – years. Sirius' death, Voldemort's reveal to the Wizarding World, and finding out the Prophecy all in one night had struck him hard back at the end of his fifth year. Deep down, he knew that he had just been struggling to live ever since. Dumbledore's death the following year and being hunted all last year hadn't really help his situation. Then, with the end of the war, his fame had increased and only caused him more misery on top of all he had already suffered. In truth, his training for the Aurors had been the only thing keeping him sane as of late. He spent the last two months putting everything that he was into his training, while trying to ignore everything else going on around him.

The Weasley and Hermione had been very worried, and they had seemed genuine about their concerns. They were constantly on him, telling him that his behavior was becoming more destructive and unhealthy by the day, that he was heading down a bad road, and that he needed to snap out of it soon. Thinking on it now, he wasn't sure, if their concern was just concern and entirely benign. Hermione had once mentioned that, if he didn't come around, then measures were going to be taken. She had been almost hysterical about it and had literally begged him to at least pretend around the others that he was okay, if nothing else.

"You mentioned earlier that Ms. Ganger's she locked you in the cell?" Dumbledore voice broke through Harry's musings.

"Yeah," Harry said, while rubbing the back of his neck and running the memory through his mind once again. "I think…she really wanted me to believe that the last few people that I actually trusted and cared for had truly betrayed me. Though, I'm not entirely certain that that was really the case.

"Regardless of if it was or wasn't, she made some disturbing accusations and basically told me that my future was a top security cell in Azkaban." Harry forced his doubts from his mind. Hermione had only ever wanted what was best for him. "When she walked away, I thought that it was the end for me. Hermione had always stood beside me, so with her walking away from me like that, I knew that I was doomed, that I really had nothing left. I'm positive that that was exactly what she wanted me to feel, because I'm one hundred percent certain that she wanted the runes to work."

"And what could possibly convince you that you'd soon be sitting in a top security cell in Azkaban?" Dumbledore asked a bit concerned.

"We were in a war, things were looking bleak. Some of the things I did over the last few years, I'm not proud of," Harry admitted quietly and averted his eyes, but gave nothing more away.

"The Ministry doesn't usually prosecute war crimes, not as long as the person who committed them fought for the winning side." Dumbledore said knowingly, his right eyebrow rising questioningly.

"The Ministry and I have never seen eye to eye. Even though I fought against Voldemort, a conviction against me for my actions during the war would have been easily achieved," Harry said with certainty. "I got on with Kingsley and several of the Aurors, but I definitely still had my enemies. Years of openly opposing the Ministry wasn't so easily forgotten. Plus, there were several Wizengamot members who hadn't ever had any love for me and would have eagerly taken advantage of any opportunity to be rid of me, no matter how circumstantial the evidence was.

"Not to mention, the paranoia of the people would have demanded it." Harry sighed and shook his head. "They were just freed from the grips of one Dark Lord. They wouldn't have wanted to even face the possibility of another one. With the accusations Hermione had made, I didn't doubt for a moment that she would have had me in a cell in Azkaban by nightfall. She may have loved me like a brother, the Weasleys may loved me as their own, but they would have done what they believed was right morally and what they thought was best for me in the end. I'm not fool enough to think that otherwise. Especially, since it was their lot who sent me here, or so I suspect."

"I believe there is much that I don't understand, Mr. Riddle." Dumbledore surveyed Harry thoughtfully. "It seems you've led a very … interesting life so far, especially for one so young."

"As I told you before, Voldemort wanted me dead from the time that I was just a baby," Harry yielded, knowing that he was going to have to give his life story, that Dumbledore would not let him leave his office without it. Of course, he recognized that he would need to add a bit of a spin to things, if he wanted Dumbledore to continue to believe that he had always been Evan Riddle and never was Harry Potter.

"Like I said, he thought that I was a threat," Harry began his tale, while trying to come up with an easy lie. He had already revealed certain information to Dumbledore that he'd rather not have, but at the time, he hadn't really thought it mattered, as he believed that he was still in his world. Though, with the whole other world thing, he could now work things to his advantage. That is, if he could manage to make his false tale seem believable.

"My mother's sacrifice saved me from certain death by his hands, and the Albus Dumbledore of my world managed to place me in the Muggle world with my mother's sister," Harry ventured, thinking that sticking as close to the truth as possible would be the only way that he'd manage to pull the whole thing off without making Dumbledore or the two Aurors still in the room overly suspicious. He wasn't a completely incompetent liar, and he was highly capable of deception. However, he was more than aware that all great lies were based somewhat in truth. He had had enough experience with being lied to, to see the value of a half-truths.

"He used the residual protection of my mother's sacrifice to create blood wards around my aunt's house," Harry continued without pause or any indication that his words were calculated "I was safe then. Voldemort couldn't break through such strong wards.

"It wasn't long after that that Voldemort found his demise in Godric's Hallow," Harry said without letting Dumbledore have too much time to ponder his previous words. "Much like my parents, James and Lily Potter lost their lives, while trying to protect their son, Harry.

"Lily Potter did the exact same thing for Harry that my mother had done for me. She willingly sacrificed herself with the hopes of sparing Harry's life, and by doing so, she afforded him with a similar protection to what my mother had left on me." Harry sighed mournfully, a half act if not genuine. He did despair his mother's sacrifice. "Whatever happened between Harry and Voldemort, after Lily's death, ended up resulting in Voldemort's soul being blasted from his body and Harry receiving a rather peculiar mark on his chest, right over his heart."

"Like with the attack against my family, the Albus Dumbledore of my world quickly took control of the situation and brought Harry to the Dursleys as well." Harry did his best to continue his story without giving any indication that he was lying. "The Headmaster strengthened the blood wards that he had already constructed around Aunt Petunia's house, using the residual protection that Lily's sacrifice had left on Harry."

"Am I to understand that you are Harry Potter's cousin?" Dumbledore interrupted, looking perplexed.

"Yes." Harry smirked internally at the lie that he was about to tell, yet outwardly appeared confident and absolutely certain of his identity. "Lilac Riddle née Evans was my mother."

"I think we've found another discrepancy between our worlds," Dumbledore said, clearly trying not to show his surprise. "Here Petunia and Lily were the only children of Matthew and Rose Evans."

"What?" Harry asked, infusing his voice and facial expressions with bewilderment.

"It is as I said," Dumbledore said plainly.

Harry looked down at his lap, doing his best to look disheartened by the news.

"What about…my father, Salazar Riddle?" Harry asked, looking back up at Dumbledore hopefully and coming up with a name that sounded along the line of something that Voldemort would name his kid. "Does he exist here?"

"Not that I know of. As far as I am aware, Tom Riddle had no children. We will do some checking around though, just to be sure," Dumbledore promised earnestly, before prompting him to continue. "What of your mother though? It is rather uncommon that more than one child of a Muggle family is born of magic."

"Well, I don't really know much about her," Harry admitted sadly. "I know that she and Lily were identical twins, and that she was sorted into Gryffindor. She fell in love with my dad in her sixth year. Their relationship was supposedly a huge scandal, what with a Muggle-born Gryffindor and a high society Slytherin coupling up. It was especially dramatic, since everyone knew that my father's father despised Muggle-Borns. Though, no one knew the full extent of his hatred, as the connection between Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort wasn't made public for several years to come.

"The second my mum graduated, my father whisked her away and married her. They kept in contact with Lily, a few of my mum's friends, and the Order of the Phoenix, but my father forsook nearly everyone he knew and everything he was raised to be, in order to be with her. Or, that is what I've been told," Harry said with a helpless shrug. "As you can imagine, Voldemort didn't take his son's defiance very well. He took to hunting my father and mother down with a vengeance. My parents lived in hiding for several years, and everything seemed fairly safe for them as long as they didn't make any form of public appearance. When word reached Voldemort in early August of 1980 that his son had had a son, things heated back up fairly quickly. It was mid-October of 1981, when Voldemort finally found us.

"I don't really know much else. Aunt Petunia never liked to talk about her sisters, and nobody else really liked to talk about my parents or the Potters. Their deaths were a hard blow for everyone to take, even years after their passing." Harry sighed disappointedly. "Harry and I, of course, knew nothing about magic or the magical world until our eleventh birthday. Not only did Aunt Petunia refuse to recognize that she had twin sisters, she refused to acknowledge our heritage. She told us that our parents all got drunk up together and killed themselves in a car crash. When we got our letters for Hogwarts, she and Uncle Vernon tried to keep them from us. It turned into a whole ordeal, and eventually, the Headmaster had to send Hagrid to retrieve us and take us to Diagon Alley to get our things."

Harry paused at hearing a throat clear behind him. He turned to see James looking at him with concern.

"Did … did they take care of you?" James asked, looking like he dreaded the answer.

Harry looked away from him. How was he supposed to tell a man, who was practically his deceased father, that in his absence, his life had been horrible and that he had suffered emotional and sometimes physical abuse from the people designated to take care of him?

"I see," James said, sounding pained.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said truthfully. He really didn't want to talk about his first ten years with the Dursleys. His summers after getting his Hogwarts letter were bad enough.

"How about you continue on with your first year at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Right, well, Harry and I were both sorted into Gryffindor at the opening feast," Harry pressed on.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked surprised. "The Heir of Slytherin in Gryffindor?"

"I had to argue the Hat for it, but I couldn't leave Harry to fend for himself," Harry said seriously and gave Dumbledore a look that suggested that even thinking about leaving 'his cousin' to fend for himself was betrayal as far as he was concerned. "He became known as the Boy-Who-Lived that night Voldemort attack the Potters. Though it was ten years later and Harry couldn't remember anything about the attack, the public still adored him for vanquishing Voldemort and freeing them from the terror of the war. They had dubbed him their child savior, their boy hero, and he was looked to as a poster child for the Light.

"Harry was utterly bewildered by it all. We grew up thinking that we were nothing, and then suddenly we were wizards and Harry was famous. Everyone knew his name and knew who he was, and that was before he even introduced himself," Harry said, just shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "Our first trip to Diagon Alley was more than a bit overwhelming for us. We no sooner stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, when Harry was recognized and we had dozens of people surrounding us, all wanting to shake Harry's hand. Harry didn't know what to think, neither of us did. After that incident, Harry was freaked out by how famous he was, and I promised him that we'd make it through Hogwarts together, that I wouldn't leave his side.

"Luckily, I got to keep my promise, as the Hat saw my mother and father's courage in me and agreed that Harry would need someone to watch his back. Plus, I didn't even know my heritage at the time, so I had no clue what it meant about my rightful house. As far as I knew, Slytherins were evil and that the blond git, Draco Malfoy, who we had confrontations with in both Diagon Alley and on the train, had been sorted into the House of Slytherin. I wanted nothing to do with anything that had him as any part of it."

His last few statements earned quiet snickers from the Aurors in the room.

"Anyways, our first year was far from quiet," Harry said, cutting across the suppressed laughter. "The Philosophers Stone was hidden in the castle and unbeknownst to anyone, Voldemort was living in the back of Professor Quirrell's head, as a sort of parasite of some form. Harry and I made good friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Though, we didn't become friends with Hermione until Halloween, when we fought off a mountain troll that Quirrell had let into the castle. Not that we knew that it was him at the time.

"Harry made seeker for Gryffindor during our first flying lessons and was nearly killed his first game, when Quirrell tried to make his broom buck him off. Ron, Hermione, and I thought it was Professor Snape, who was after Harry. When we informed Harry of our suspicions after the match, we all decided that we should watch Professor Snape a bit more closely and not let Harry alone with him.

"Over Christmas break, the Headmaster gifted Harry with his dad's old invisibility cloak. We, of course, immediately used it to sneak around, disregarding all rules for curfew and forbidden areas in the process," Harry said with a faint smile. "When school started back up, time seemed to fly. It wasn't until near the end of the year that we put together the mystery of the Stone. None of the adults would believe us that someone in the school was going to try and steel the stone, and the Headmaster had been called away to the Ministry. We went after the Stone that night, thinking that Professor Snape would make his move then.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all made it past the first few obstacles that were protecting the Stone, but Ron got hurt in the process of defeating Professor McGonagall's obstacle. Hermione was going to stay with him, but neither Harry nor I were as knowledgeable as her, and we thought that she should come with us. In the end, we decided that I'd stay with Ron, and Hermione would go on and help Harry advance forward.

"It took a few minutes, but I managed to wake Ron up, and not long after, Hermione came back saying that there was only enough of some potion for Harry, and we all knew Harry was the one who was destined to stop Professor Snape from getting the Stone for Voldemort. Harry had told her to come back and to try and get a professor for help.

"On our way out, we ran into the Headmaster, who had realized that he'd been duped and that the Stone was in danger. He sent us to the Hospital Wing and then went to save Harry, which turned out to be unnecessary. By the time the Headmaster got there, Quirrell was ash, Voldemort's was gone, and Harry had the Stone."

"Tom was content to leave you alone for the year, knowing that you were his grandson and had survived his previous attack?" Dumbledore asked with assessing eyes.

"Yeah…he left Harry alone for the most part as well. After that one attempt during the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match, he didn't try anything again." Harry shrugged. "I think he was far more focused on getting the Stone without getting caught. He didn't want to risk anything by coming after us."

Dumbledore nodded and then motioned for Harry to continue his tale.

"Our second year was just as eventful, if not more." Harry frowned. "On Halloween that year, the Chamber of Secrets was reopened … and no, I wasn't the one to open it," Harry added quickly at seeing a bit of suspicion in Dumbledore's eyes. "In fact, most of the school was convinced that it was Harry.

"What! Why?" James and Sirius asked together, before they could stop themselves.

"Well, during a dueling club meeting that Professor Lockhart was hosting, Harry and Malfoy were called up to do a demonstration duel. They were only supposed to disarm each other, but Malfoy set a snake on Harry. Harry told the snake to back off and the snake did," Harry explained, while not quite looking at James. He didn't want to see the man's horror at learning that his alternate son was a parselmouth. "I didn't even know that Harry had spoken a different language and neither did Harry. It wasn't until Ron explained it to us that we understood why everyone was looking at Harry so strangely.

"Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew that I was also a parselmouth, while the whole school knew that Harry was one," Harry supplied further. "They all thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin, and for all we knew, Harry and I both could have been. We didn't know about our heritage at all. We only knew that parseltongue was a trait of Slytherin – which we both had – and that we were both of Evans blood. Hermione even speculated that the Evans family might have actually descended from Slytherin through a squib line.

"Regardless of if we were or if we weren't," Harry pressed on, "we wanted to get to the bottom of things. We got especially anxious, as more attacks took place. Though, luckily, none were fatal and the victims were only petrified.

"The strange thing about it all was that Harry and I kept hearing a voice threatening to kill before each of the attacks. We tried following the voice, and twice we came across the petrified victims, which only strengthened peoples' convictions that Harry was the one behind it." Harry grimaced at the memory of finding Justin Finch-Fletchley and the way McGonagall had looked at him. "The second time that we were found on scene was almost directly after the dueling club meeting, where Harry was exposed as a parselmouth. Harry and I were both sent to the Headmaster's office. The Headmaster asked Harry and I, if we had anything to tell him, but neither one of us were sure about what was going on with the strange voice. All we knew was that hearing voices wasn't good, so we told him no.

"Sometime after that, we found a diary that someone had tried to flush down a toilet in the girls' bathroom on the second floor. The name on it was Tom Marvolo Riddle, which naturally got my attention. However, we discovered that all the pages were blank. We thought that Tom Riddle must have not written in it.

"Later on – when I tried to write in it – I was surprised, when the ink disappeared into the page and then a response to what I wrote materialized. I talked to Tom, and I asked him, if he knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets. He showed me a memory of Hagrid with some sort of creature. Naturally, since we had been friendly with Hagrid since our first year, we were less than inclined to believe that it was him, but then again we didn't know. We didn't really know anything. We were just chasing ghosts and were in constant fear that Hermione would be next.

"It was around Mid-Spring, when the diary was stolen out of our dorm and our fears were brought to reality. Hermione and another girl were petrified. That same night, Hagrid was taken to Azkaban, and the Headmaster was removed from his post. We did our best to investigate without Hermione, but we had little success. She really was the brains of our group.

"At the end of May, Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Harry, Ron, and I went after her. We sort of forced Gilderoy Lockhart, who was the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at the time, to come with us against his will. The fraud got hold of Ron's broken wand and managed to cause a cave-in in the anterior of the Chamber, when he tried to memory charm us and the spell backfired. Lockhart and Ron were on one side of the cave in, and Harry and I were on the other. Harry and I went on, while Ron worked to clear the path.

"When Harry and I entered the main chamber, we found Ginny unconscious, as cold as ice, and seemingly on the verge of death. She had Tom Riddle's diary clutched in her arms. We had set down our wands in our attempts to check on Ginny, which was a mistake, as we were soon being held at wand point by a corporeal, teenage Tom, who had come out of the shadows."

Harry paused in his tale to take a deep breath and vet out the lie he planned to tell for this portion of the story. The other three occupants in the office seemed to sense his need for a brief break to collect himself, attributing it to him reflecting on bad memories, and did not ask him any questions or prompt him to continue. It was several minutes later, before Harry finally broke the silence that had settle over the room.

"I learned the truth about my heritage," Harry said quietly. "He showed us the anagram of his name 'TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE', revealing himself with the formation of the words 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!' He claimed to know all about me and Harry. He offered me to take my proper place by his side and to rise to power with him. He told me that I was his and that we belonged as family. He said that we were the last living descendants of Salazar, and it was our right to follow in our great grandfather's footsteps.

"He told me that he understood me, and he explained how very a like we were, as he too had grown up with abusive Muggles, he too was an orphan, and he too had his heritage kept from him. He told me that the Headmaster had known all along who I was and had hidden my true ancestry from me, just as the Headmaster had done with him. He offered everything that I could ever dream of, said that I could have whatever I wanted, that it would all be mine for one small price. He wanted me to kill Harry, the boy who had killed him, taking away the last remaining member of my true family.

"I refused him," Harry announced firmly to the room, which had grown tense. "I stepped back to stand next to Harry and flat out told him that Harry was my family and that I wanted nothing to do with him. I wasn't about to be swayed by false promises, as I knew that it was Lord Voldemort who had killed my parents and tried to kill me and I knew that it was Lord Voldemort who had killed Aunt Lily and Uncle James and tried to kill Harry. I declared then that I had no grandfather, that Tom Riddle was no blood of mine. Harry was my only blood, and I would fight at Harry's side no matter what.

"Tom wasn't very happy about that," Harry said flatly with a troubled look marring his face. "He set his Basilisk after us in a fit of rage. Luckily, Fawkes came to our aid. He gave Harry the sorting hat and then destroyed the monster's eyes. Harry pulled Gryffindor's Sword out of the Hat and began fighting the Basilisk, while I got Ginny out of the way of being crushed and made sure Tom kept out of Harry's fight.

"Somewhere in the chaos, Harry shoved the sword through the Basilisk's mouth and up into its brain, however, one of its fangs embedded into Harry's arm, as it toppled dead to the ground. I ran to help, but Riddle stopped me with a full body bind.

"Harry didn't give up though. He pulled the fang from his arm and crawled over to Ginny. All the while, Tom taunted us about our impending deaths, and how I would have to watch Harry die, before he tortured and killed me himself. Harry just ignored him, as he took the diary from Ginny's hands and stabbed it with the fang. Riddle screamed bloody murder and disintegrated with the diary's destruction. The magic keeping me from moving fell away and I rushed to Harry's side. Fawkes came back then and healed Harry's wound with his tears. Ginny woke up as well, and we all headed out of the Chamber to meet back up with Ron, who had managed to create a hole in the rubble for us to climb back through."

"What did your world's Albus make of the diary?" Dumbledore questioned seriously, once it was clear that Harry was finished discussing his second year.

"He found it very interesting," Harry said meaningfully. "We learned just how interesting he found it in our sixth year. We went hunting for similar artifacts all this last year, which would have been our seventh and final year."

"And the years in between?" Dumbledore questioned.

"In my world, Sirius was the known secret keeper of the Potters. Everyone believed he betrayed their location to Voldemort and then a few days later murdered Peter Pettigrew, along with a dozen Muggle witnesses. Sirius was thrown in Azkaban without a trial." Harry sneered, still infuriated at the injustice. "The summer after our second year, Sirius escaped and everyone thought that he wanted revenge on Harry.

"As per usual," Harry said quickly at seeing the horror on the two Aurors' faces, "the Ministry fucked up all those years ago by not giving Sirius a trial. If they had, they would have discovered that it was Pettigrew, who had the betrayed of the Potter's location and who had blown up the street, killing the Muggles. The _rat_ framed Sirius for it all, by cut off his finger, before scurrying down the sewer – making everyone think that he had died in Sirius' supposed attack, when really he had escaped scot-free.

"Of course, the Ministry was intent on fucking up again and was all set to perform the Dementors' kiss on Sirius, even after we tried to explain the truth, which we had discovered over the course of our third year." Harry said bitterly. "Sirius managed to evade capture and took off for distant lands. Thank Merlin!"

"Fourth year was the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry was forced to compete in it as a fourth champion, after someone entered his name into the Goblet of Fire under a forth school. At the end of the last task, he took hold of the Cup, which turned out to be an unauthorized portkey. Harry was taken off Hogwarts grounds and distributed in graveyard near the old manor that belonged to Voldemort's father. Voldemort, with Pettigrew's assistance, used Harry's blood to get his body back. Harry managed to escape death, by getting hold of the portkey again, which returned him to Hogwarts. The idiot Fudge, who was our Minister of Magic at the time, refused to believe Harry's story.

"Our next school year was hell," Harry continued on without pause or letting the others get in a word edgewise. "The Ministry placed Dolores Umbridge in the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. She did everything in her power to keep Harry, and anyone else who believe Harry, quiet about Voldemort's return.

"Over the year, the Ministry forced over a hundred educational decrees on us, and Umbridge managed to claim the title of High Inquisitor and Headmistress. Harry and I led a rebel group against her and the Ministry's policies. We taught our fellow students Defense, since Umbridge wouldn't even so much as let us take out our wands in class. Over all, Harry and I did nearly everything that we possibly could to undermine the ruling authority without crossing the line and getting ourselves arrested for treason, though it had come close to it quite a few times.

"At the end of the year, we learned the full connection between Harry and Voldemort. The mark on Harry's chest had bothered him even before Voldemort had regained his body. Over the previous four years, it had given him a pain here and there, as well as a few headaches, but with Voldemort having his full power back, the connection seemed to have strengthened. It got to the point, where Harry could see into Voldemort's mind.

"After winter break, it was decided that Harry's connection with Voldemort was too much of a liability and it was decided that Harry needed Occlumency lessons. The Headmaster assigned Professor Snape to instruct Harry on how to turn off the connection and keep Voldemort out of his mind, which turned out to be a complete disaster. Harry learned next to nothing from Snape, and the lessons seemed to only weaken Harry's defenses further.

"During our History OWL, Voldemort sent a vision to Harry, showing him torturing Sirius in the Hall of Prophecies. The second we were done with our test, Harry wanted to go to the Ministry, and I was all for it. Sirius had treated me like a second godson and had pretty much decided that Harry and I might as well have been brothers. After doing some checking to make sure it wasn't a trick and that Sirius wasn't actually safe at –" Harry paused suddenly and scratched his head, trying to remember where his thoughts were going and where exactly Sirius had been at that point. "I … he was somewhere ..."

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said with understanding.

"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed, as the information reentered his mind. "So anyway, after making sure Sirius wasn't safe at headquarters, we decided to head off for the Ministry ourselves, seeing as all the professor who were Order members and who we actually trusted had been previously ousted by Umbridge, and we had no adult to turn to for help.

"After a fight with the Inquisitorial Squad and the head toad, we got to the Hall of Prophecies completely unhindered and found that we were victims of a trap. Sirius wasn't there, nor was Voldemort. What was there was a prophecy sphere with Harry and Voldemort's names on it. The second Harry removed it from the shelf, we were surrounded by a dozen Death Eaters. Fortunately, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom were with us, or we would have been toast otherwise.

"We blasted the shelves and made a break for it. It was chaos. Spells were flying all over the place and the glass spheres were breaking left and right, filling the Hall with a constant volume of noise and making it impossible to tell where the Death Eaters were at. Somehow, we were able to put up enough of a fight to avoid immediate capture and to escape the room. Unfortunately, we couldn't make a full escape, and we were cornered in the Death Chamber.

"We thought we were done for, but it was at that moment that the Order showed up and the fight began anew. Just as the things seemed to turn in our favor, one of Bellatrix Lestrange's curses broke through Sirius's defenses and sent him through the Veil. Harry made to run after Sirius to save him, but thankfully Remus grabbed him, as I frozen in shock. Sirius had been a stand in father for the both of us, even if we hadn't gotten to see him much."

Harry paused a moment, taking a shaky breath. He had mourned his godfather many times, but no matter how many times he had shed tears for the man, his heart still ached at the loss. The memory of his death still ate at him, as he knew that his own stupidity had been a partial cause and he was still having trouble trying to forgive himself.

"Bellatrix ran to make her escape." Harry spoke softly, after taking a moment to compose himself. "I ran after her. I wasn't about to let her get away with it. I caught up with her in the atrium, but before things could get serious, Voldemort showed up. The Headmaster followed not long after and the two began to duel.

"Sometime during the night – I'm not sure when – the Minister and the entire Auror force were alerted to the disturbance. They all showed up in time to witness Voldemort alive and well and locked in battle with Albus Dumbledore. When it became apparent to Voldemort that he was going to have to run, he attempted a full on possession of Harry. Harry fought him off, and Voldemort disapparated with Bellatrix. The Headmaster created a portkey and gave it to Harry, while instructing me to let someone from the Order take me back to the school.

"Later, Harry told me that the Headmaster told him the Prophecy. He shared with me the exact wording of it and told me that Neville and I were the other two candidates for it, but that Voldemort had marked him, which meant that the prophecy was his. We made a pact then to be by each other's side, no matter what fight was placed before us. Ron and Hermione pretty much pledged the same to us. A few days later, we got on the train to go back to the Dursleys for the summer.

"The rest is best left between us and only us," Harry said meaningfully, while looking directly at Dumbledore. "Most of it you wouldn't want to let slip to even your most trusted of confidants."

"You assume that our Voldemort is not vanquished here?" Dumbledore questioned surprised, clearly sensing Harry's paranoia over the subject.

"I can see it in your eyes, Headmaster. I can see it in their eyes," Harry said with a nod in James and Sirius's direction. "He's alive here and is causing problems."

"Indeed, he is." Dumbledore nodded, while observing Harry carefully. "You don't seem to fear the prospect of possibly facing him once again."

"After watching him fall at my brother's hand, he no longer seems all that scary." Harry shrugged. "I actually sort of pity him. He grew up not knowing love. All through Hogwarts, he kept people at a distance. In his adult years, he indulged others to get what he wanted, but he never actually cared for any of them. His followers fear him, and I have witnessed several betray him, when the price presented was high enough. He is nothing, and yet, he believes he is everything.

"It's pathetic and just plain sad. Though, the saddest part of all is that it was the world that created Voldemort out of Tom Riddle. People's cruelty and apathy shaped him, and now it is too late for him to know remorse for what he has done. He is on the path of self-destruction and there is nothing that anyone can do to help him. His life has been forfeit and has come to waste." Harry said knowingly.

"He was such a bright young man," Dumbledore said without even a flicker of a twinkle in his eyes, looking utterly remorseful and guilty. "He always had a certain darkness about him, but I believe that he could have really done something great with his life. Perhaps, if things had been different …"

"You had no way of knowing," Harry assured. "Sure, he was a rather strange boy, if not a bit disturbing, but you had no way of knowing what he would become, no one did. It isn't one single person who is responsible for what he is now. The responsibility lies on everyone, even on him.

"He had choices, and he chose wrong. He chose his darkness, and while I pity him for it, I know with absolute certainty that he did have that choice. He didn't have to turn to evil acts, just because he got a hard life handed to him. I know, because he didn't lie to me in the Chamber of Secrets. He and I are alike," Harry said seriously. It was a fact that he had had to come to accept. As much as he wished to deny it, he knew what the truth was. "I could have easily been him. I could have embraced my darkness. But, in the end, I chose against. I chose what was right over what was easy. Though, in some instances, I do admit that sticking to that choice has been a struggle for me, and a few times, I have faltered."

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at the young man before him with unmasked surprised and open intrigue. After all, it wasn't often that a man recognized, let alone admitted, his own weakness.

"It's not like I never thought about turning my wand on the Dursleys, Headmaster. I did turn my wand on Bellatrix in the Ministry atrium, before Voldemort showed up. I have had several people turn their wands on me. I do know what the Dark Arts offer. I can hardly say that I don't," Harry granted, while not quite meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "I'm aware of the power that they give the caster, more than aware of it actually. But, as I said, I have made my choice, and it truly was my choice, just as Tom Riddle's choice was his and his alone."

"Were we close in your world, Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore asked curiously, while respecting the honesty that Harry had given him, by not pressing the subject further.

"You took an interest in my life and kept a close eye on me," Harry allowed. "We weren't exactly anything more than Headmaster and pupil, but I spent my fair share of time in this office speaking with you. Harry, though, you were far closer to him than you ever were to me. I believe he had, at one point in time, seen you as a grandfather or as a mentor of sorts."

"It is rather fascinating, I must admit, to hear about a world that is so different from our own." Dumbledore sighed, while gesturing to himself and the two Aurors. "I imagine that you have your own questions concerning our world."

"Many." Harry nodded. "But I'd rather ask those questions, after I've had the time to look into this world's history."

"I can tell you now, that one of the most apparent differences is that the Prophecy was never activated. Voldemort never knew of it," Dumbledore said gravely. "Alastor Moody did manage to fatally wound him in '86, but like in your world, he only became a shade. Six months ago, his Death Eaters managed to bring him back.

"A second difference that you'll find overly apparent is that, with the extra years of war in the 80s, we changed the academic structure of Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued with in business tone. "Our students still take their NEWTs at the end of their seventh year, but most stay longer to take their Wizarding Apprenticeship Secondary Practicals. They pick any two fields of study and explore and learn everything they can about those two fields, while attending Hogwarts for two more years. At the end of those two extra years, they are tested extensively in their chosen fields and are required to submit a thesis project for each."

"How exactly does that work for the professors?" Harry asked curiously. "They were already pretty busy, when they only had to worry about seven year levels."

"The WASP students don't actually attend any classes. They work independently. At the end of each term, they submit their progress, so that we know that they are working. However, we don't grade them on anything," Dumbledore explained. "It was originally thought up to afford students two extra years of protection here at Hogwarts, but the success of the students during the war-time inspired us to keep the program permanently.

"We had quickly come to recognize that the addition of the WASPs allowed for our young people to truly explore different fields of magic, which later helped them in choosing careers that were far more suitable to their interests," Dumbledore said in a very pleased tone. "Over the last 14 years, our WASP students have statistically done better than those who have graduated with only their NEWTs or OWLs. Reports from our WASP graduates, NEWT graduates, and OWL graduates show that our WASP graduates are far more happier with their lives in general, as they are given more time to chose which field of the magical work force that they want to go into and generally acquire higher paying jobs."

"So, you're saying that I shouldn't immediate jump back into pursuing a career as an Auror and that I should remain here to finish my NEWTs, as well as stay for my WASPs?" Harry asked knowingly. He could see that that was exactly where Dumbledore was caring the conversation to. The man hadn't looked pleased back in the Hospital Wing when he had admitted to only having his OWLs.

"I am saying nothing of the sort," Dumbledore replied innocently. "Though, It is something to consider, as I don't believe that it is possible to send you back to your home world. Having your NEWTs and WASPs will greatly benefit you. Without them, you'd miss out on several opportunities here in our world."

"This is all too much to think about right now." Harry rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. He had just learned that he had somehow traveled between worlds, had made up a life story for Evan Riddle, and now Dumbledore wanted him to consider his options and make plans for his future in this new world that he had come to. He really needed time to clear his head and think logically, before making any sort of commitment to anything. Though, getting his NEWTs, at the very least, would be required for him to get into the Auror Academy. "When do you want my answer by?"

"Your final decision needs to be reported to me by July 31st at the latest, but the sooner you give your answer the easier things will be." Dumbledore looked to Harry with sympathetic eyes. "I don't mean to press you, but as I said, I don't believe we can send you back. We could set up the runes again, but they most likely won't send you to your world. You'd most likely be transported to another world that is similar, yet different to this one. I seriously advise against even attempting it. Your best bet would be to settle in here. However, time is of the essence, as outside parties need to be informed of your identity and background."

"The Ministry?" Harry asked, looking at Dumbledore with sudden understanding and a bit of worry.

"As far as they currently know, you arrived in that cell due to a badly malfunctioning portkey," Dumbledore said with a hint of a twinkle in his eye, before he became serious once again. "You'll need a full and believable story to give them, one that isn't the truth. The magic you traveled here by is very powerful and has the potential to lead to disaster. The Ministry does not look kindly on such tampering with space and time. You would find yourself in a world of trouble, if they found out that you are a foreign entity."

"I understand, sir." Harry nodded. "I'll think of something."

"I'd advise that you also think about taking on your mother's maiden name, or possibly, taking on a whole new name," Dumbledore counseled. "Though it is not public knowledge, the name Riddle will hinder you. Some know of its significance, Voldemort in particular."

Harry nodded again, feeling even more overwhelmed than before. The last thing he needed was for Voldemort to target and come after him again, like he had in his home world.

"Just think on it, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said gently, dropping his business facade. "I know this is a lot, but with the situation as it is, you really must consider what you want out of life and make plans accordingly…and rather quickly, I must add."

"I'd like to go lay down for a bit," Harry said, feeling the exhaustion of the situation in full force. His mind had taken one hit after another, and he really didn't think he could take much more at the moment.

"Sirius, would you please escort our young friend back to the Hospital Wing and make sure no one comes to bother him?" Dumbledore asked, while glancing briefly at James.

"Of course." Sirius agreed and stepped forward willingly.

Harry got up and silently left the office with the dark haired man, while pretending that he hadn't noticed James settling down in the chair that he had just vacated.


	4. Getting Things Settled

**Chapter 3: Getting Things Settled**

_Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ lay open in Harry's lap, while a good twenty other books were stacked up on the coffee table in front him. He wasn't usually one to voluntarily sit down for hours on end and to do research, but with his current situation, he recognized that hours of research was exactly what he needed to do. He needed to familiarize himself with this new world. He needed to know its history and its prominent wizarding families. He needed to know what the differences and the similarities between his world and this new world were. Until he had a solid background of this world, he had to assume that he knew nothing. There was no telling what had changed and what hadn't.

Harry flipped another page of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ and began to read about the Weasley Family, just skimming over the words quickly, like he had with all the other families he had read about. He found no differences that overly apparent or shocking. Mr. Weasley still worked in the Misused Muggle Artefacts Office. Mrs. Weasley still stayed at home and tended the house. Bill still worked for Gringotts and, like in his home world, had still married Fleur a year ago. Charlie still worked in Romania on the dragon reserve. Percy still went to work for the Ministry of Magic right after he graduated Hogwarts. All three elder Weasley sons had stayed in Hogwarts for the WASP program. However, it hadn't seemed to overly affect their chosen careers.

The first real change that he found in the Weasley Family was that Fred and George had stayed in Hogwarts all the way through their WASPs and had graduated last spring. Not only had they stayed in school, but both twins had earned top marks on their OWLs, NEWTs, and WASPs. Their fields of study for their WASPs were Pranking and Magical Innovation. Over the last month, the two had opened up their own joke shop in Diagon Alley called Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The names of Potter and Black were both noted as being financial backers of the shop.

Ron's history was also different. He hadn't done very well on his OWLs or his NEWTs, but he showed extraordinary promise as a Keeper and had been Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team for two years. He had received a few offers to play professionally, but had turned them down in favor of finishing out his education, so that he could have a better chance at a proper career, once his Quidditch days were over. His recorded fields of study for his WASPs were Aerial Tactics and Broomstick Mechanics, which he hoped to someday put towards Broomstick Development.

Ginny's history was a bit different as well. Her OWL scores were higher than they had been in his world, and she was noted for her brilliance and her friendly attitude. She had been made a Prefect in her fifth year and was predicted to become Head Girl this upcoming year. There were also rumors that she and Harry Potter were engaged or were, at the very least, planning on getting engaged soon.

The differences were small, but they were there – just like in every family he had read about so far. Many of the people he knew in his world seemed to be the same here, but they were also different. Lucius Malfoy, for example, was still noted for being a very proud and egotistical man. However, the man did not have a great pull in the Ministry, nor did he have a seat on the Board of Governors. He had gotten cleared of the charges brought against him at the end of the war in 1986 by claiming the imperious and bribing Minister Bagnold. However, the public was not so accepting of his false facade in this world, as not two months after Lucius was clear, the Malfoy name had been ripped apart by the name of Black.

Then there was the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge. While he was still very much a political man in this world, he was also more ruthless and more about the cold, hard facts. It was noted that Fudge's wife was murdered by a group of Death Eaters in 1985, and since then, he had stood firmly against Voldemort and his followers. The man had risen fast within the ranks of the Ministry with his anti-Voldemort campaign and had ousted Bagnold for the spot of Minister by 1987, which was three years earlier than the man had done so in his world. In the aftermath of the war, Fudge, as Minister for Magic, had launched Auror recruitment to an all time high and had kept the program maintained over the years. Despite the lack of evidence of the events surrounding Alastor Moody's death six months ago, Fudge gave his full support to Albus Dumbledore, when the Headmaster claimed that Voldemort had returned.

While several families' histories were fairly similar to the ones that he had know in his world and others had noticeable differences, there were five prominent families that had drastic changes in them. The first was the Black Family, which was not a dead, nor dying, bloodline in this world. Sirius Black had married a woman named Dorcas Meadowes back in 1983, and they had a son and a daughter. Aries Sirius Black had just recently turned thirteen, and Lyra Ankaa Black would be twelve in August.

Second was the Bones Family, which had been completely whipped out in the war with Voldemort. The family had paid dearly for their firm and very vocal opposition of Voldemort. On Christmas Day of 1984, no one in Bones Manor had been spared, as the ancestral manor had been sealed and burned down with fiendfyre by a large party of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

Third was the Crouch Family, which now was a dead bloodline as well. Crouch Sr. and Lady Crouch were assassinated by their own son in February of 1982. Crouch Jr. was later prosecuted and given the Dementor's kiss, which effectively brought the ancient line to an end, as Bartholomew Edgar Crouch Jr. was the last living descendant of the Crouch bloodline, and he had yet to take a wife or produce an heir.

Fourth was the Longbottom Family. The family had a very different fate to the one it had suffered in his world. Frank and Alice Longbottom were never tortured to insanity, and they managed to hold their own against several attempted raids on Longbottom Manor. Neville Franklin Longbottom now had a brother and a sister. Joseph Benjamin Longbottom was set to begin his fifth year in the fall, and Caitlyn Augusta Longbottom would be a third year.

Fifth, and last of all, was the Potter Family, which had also been granted a very different fate. James and Lily Potter of this world never needed to sacrifice their lives for their firstborn son, Harrison James Potter. They had successfully remained hidden from Voldemort, when the Dark Lord and his followers' attention had turned on them. The couple went on to have a daughter and three more sons. Dorea Rose Potter would be going into her sixth year at Hogwarts. Joshua Charles Potter would be going into his fifth year, while Christopher Reid Potter would be a third-year, and Nicholas Gus Potter would be a first-year.

Over all, there were tons of minor and major discrepancies littered throughout the timeline of events that he had once known. Some of the largest ones of all were the Prophecy not being turned over to Voldemort by Severus Snape, Alastor Moody being the one to take out Voldemort with a lucky shot back in 1986, and Voldemort's postponed rebirth. Not to mention, Hogwarts' history over the last seven years had differ drastically as well. The Philosopher's Stone had never been in danger, the Chamber of Secrets had never been opened, there had never been any reason for Dementors to guard the grounds, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament had gone as it should with Victor Krum emerging as the Champion. Everything that happened during his fifth and sixth years had been right out negated, as Voldemort had remained only a shade in this world up until six months ago.

Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes, as he lean back into the dark green couch. All the little changes added up quick to depict a world that was so very clearly not his own. He had never paid much attention in History of Magic, but as far as he could tell, the 1980s of this world were where things really began to diverge from his world. Everything pointed to the disclosure of the Prophecy as being the trigger. For whatever reason, Snape hadn't taken the Prophecy to Voldemort. Perhaps Snape never heard it, or perhaps he never joined Voldemort's ranks, but either way, that seemed to be the hinge point. Everything just spun off course after that.

"Find what you're looking for yet?" A familiar voice broke through the silence of the Black Library.

Harry looked up to see Sirius Black sitting in an armchair not too far from him. A scowl was marring the man's face, as he took in the large stack of books on the coffee table that sat between them.

"Yeah, I think I have." Harry nodded tiredly, nearly ten days straight of researching this world that he would now call home had pretty much whipped him out.

"That's good," Sirius said, sounding relieved.

"I'll be prepared to give Dumbledore my final decision tomorrow afternoon," Harry murmured, while avoiding actually meeting Sirius' gaze.

As he expect, Sirius gave him an awkward nodded and then got up to leave the room. The man just didn't seem to know what to say to him or how to act around him. After the first few days of awkwardness, Sirius had taken to speaking to him as little as possible and only coming around to Grimmauld Place, when Dumbledore asked him to check on him.

Dumbledore, in true Dumbledore fashion, had been around much either. The old man had sat down with him the day after Madam Pomfrey had released him from the Hospital Wing, and he had moved into Grimmauld Place. They had a very long chat about Horcruxes and Hallows and had exchanged all the information that they possess on Tom Marvolo Riddle and their wars. However, he hadn't really seen or heard from the Headmaster since. Not that he had been particularly aching for company or anything. After all, he'd had had his head buried in the books of the Black Library for most of his waking hours over the last week and a half. Still, it was just such a typical Albus Dumbledore move that he couldn't help but be slightly irked by it.

Harry shook himself of that thought. This Dumbledore hadn't done anything to him yet. He really shouldn't place his grudge against his old world's Dumbledore on this world's Dumbledore. Besides, he had other things to think about. He needed to come up with a story for the Ministry, decide whether he would go back to school, and decide on a different name. He couldn't keep Riddle, even if he had actually wanted to. Voldemort would have been on top of him in seconds, and that would have led to nothing good. Therefore, he'd go with Evans, since he couldn't exactly claim the name Potter.

Harry set _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ down on the coffee table and picked up _The Importance of One's Name_. He settled back into the couch, as he cracked the spine of the book and mentally prepared himself for the task at hand.

–

The evening hours quickly faded to night and the night rapidly faded to early morning, as Harry spent the time flipping through various books that he had found for reference and formulated a back story for himself to give to the Ministry. He knew that he would need something that could be vague, yet believable, as well as easily covered with official documents. That meant that his best bet would be to claim Muggle-born status and a life in the Muggle world. The Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government often had communication errors. It would be very easy for his alias to get lost in the system and for his papers to be forged by magic without notice.

The only trick was coming up with a viable excuse for how he slipped through the cracks of the Ministry of Magic. He could claim out of country citizenship, but that just complicated things to a level that he didn't want to think about. He at least knew Britain and had a solid British accent that would be hard to disguise as anything else. Plus, the idea of the ICW getting involved in the matter, definitely set him on edge. In his opinion, the less government agencies involved in confirming his faux life, the better off he would be.

As the morning came to a close and the grandfather clock struck twelve, Harry wrapped up his work. He had everything that he would need for his meeting with Dumbledore at three o'clock. With a bit of the Headmaster's influence, he expected that things would work out rather smoothly.

After a quick bite of lunch, Harry laid down for a short nap. It was two hours later that he awoke and traipsed to the end of the third floor hall to one of the many bathrooms in Grimmauld Place in the pursuit of a hot shower.

Refreshed and ready for the afternoon, Harry made to slip on a set of dark blue robes Sirius had lent him, only to pause with steam from his shower still swirling around him, as he caught sight of his reflection in the partially fogged up bathroom mirror. To him it was strange that Dumbledore, James, and Sirius hadn't recognized him, especially since he'd found out that there was a Harry in this world. Yet, looking at himself now – his features somewhat gaunt and his frame noticeably muscular from all his training and his last year spent on the run, his skin pale from how much time he had dedicated to perfecting his casting repertoire, strength, and accuracy in the Combat Simulation Chamber over the last few months, his jawline and chin darkened with stubble and his hair long enough to rest upon his shoulders or be tied back in a loose ponytail that he had found that he'd like the look of, his green eyes haunted, wary, and free of glass due to the fact that he had had to get his eyesight corrected to meet the physical requirements for the Auror Program (as 20/20 vision had become part of the new fitness standard instated by Minister Shacklebolt and Chief Auror Dawlish in an effort to keep Britain's Auror force from reaching the same deplorable state that it had post-war, after Voldemort's first defeat), and his now almost faded lightning bolt scar and his many new scars that he hadn't had a year ago – Harry could hardly recognize himself either. If he were being honest, he had grown to look less like an exact replica of his father, as he had gotten older, and he was thankful for it, back in his old world and in this world.

Upon quickly pulling on the dark blue robes, Harry headed down to the kitchen, where he threw a handful of floo powered into the fireplace and spoke the pass phrase to Dumbledore's office. Emerald flames encompassed him and then he was spinning and flying past various fireplaces. As he came to his destination, he relaxed his muscles and let the magic carry him. A moment later, he stepped gracefully out of the floo and into Dumbledore's office. He smiled at Dumbledore, who smiled in return, looking truly pleased to see him.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," Harry greeted, as he walked over to the old man's desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore returned, while nodding for Harry to take a seat.

"I believe you have me mistaken for someone else," Harry said with a playful grin, after settling down in one of the chairs opposite of Dumbledore.

"Do I?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes, I believe you do, for I know not of any Mr. Riddle," Harry said, while looking bothered that anyone could possibly make such a mistake. "I am Kendrick Evans, sir. Do you not remember the transfer request that I submitted to you at the end of June? I thought that was why you called me here today."

"Ah, Mr. Evans," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. "I apologize. My schedule has been rather hectic lately. I've been getting my meetings mixed up more and more these days. Let me see where I put your paperwork." Dumbledore looked over his desk for a moment, before pulling a blank form towards him. "Ah, here it is. Perhaps you should look over it, just to make sure that everything recorded here is correct."

"One more quick review couldn't hurt," Harry agreed, while accepting the form and a self-inking quill. "Hmm …" He hummed, as he began filling in the form to his specifics. Fifteen minutes later, he handed the completed form back to Dumbledore. "Everything seems in order, sir."

"Mr. Kendrick Tarrant Evans," Dumbledore said, peering down at the form in his hand. "Date of Birth, July 31st, 1980. A Surrey resident and a student of the Arthurian School of Magic – Southeast. Parents…" Dumbledore looked up from the form and to Harry, who gave him a confirmatory nod in response to his questioning gaze. With a satisfied smile, Dumbledore went back to reading over the form.

"Well, it seems that everything is indeed in order, Mr. Evans," Dumbledore commented five minutes later, upon finishing going over what Harry had written.

"I certainly thought so." Harry smirked.

"I, myself, could not have come up with a better tale," Dumbledore said, sounding a bit impressed. "This is going to be very easy to collaborate."

"That was the idea," Harry said with a nod. "The Muggle Foster Care System is an easy place for records to get lost in, and the Ministry could care less about the various minor magical institutes spread over England. It would explain away my lack of OWL scores and my lack of NEWT scores, as well as the many holes in my education, and the fact that I am completely unregistered with the Ministry of Magic in this world."

"And why did you not attend Hogwarts, when you were originally invited?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I was still distressed over my parents' recent deaths, and my foster parents felt it best that I didn't suffer the trauma of going through such a large change so soon after being orphaned. At that point, I had just recently begun to settle in a bit and adjust to living with them," Harry answered smoothly.

"But of course, we didn't want your magic to go untrained, so we told them of the local branch of the Arthurian School of Magic, a day school that you could attend and at least learn to control the gift you possess." Dumbledore looked even more pleased with the lie.

"I would have attended Hogwarts sooner, but my foster parents voted against it," Harry continued. "As I am still underage in the Muggle world until tomorrow, their decision was final. But come September 1st, where I choose to further my education is my choice."

"And the wayward portkey?" Dumbledore inquired.

"It was a suspicious object that I found placed in my neighborhood's local park. I didn't know what it was. All I knew was that it was magical, and it was out in the open, where any Muggle could walk by and pick it up. I had planned to report it to the Ministry, but at that time a curious child came by and was about to grab it. I reacted on instinct and plucked the object out of the child's reach, only to find myself whisked away," Harry said simply. "The next thing I knew, I was waking up in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing."

"Well, Mr. Evans, it seems that I have a few favors to call in and a few records to forge, but it looks as if you will be attending Hogwarts come September," Dumbledore announced, as he signed the form that Harry had just filled out. "I, myself, was going to suggest that your studies for your OWLs and NEWTs be independent, so that was excellent thinking on your part, but what of your WASPs?"

"For my WASPs, the Art of Dueling and Curse Breaking are my chosen fields," Harry answered promptly. "And when I graduate, I'd like to continue on to get a Mastery in Defense. I believe those fields would be most helpful towards achieving that goal. They give me a wide variety of magic to study, but with a focused aim at defense of oneself and defense of one's surroundings."

"Do you know the OWL and NEWT requirements to gain such a Mastery?" Dumbledore inquired, while making a few notes on a different form that he had pulled towards him, as soon as they began discussing OWLs, NEWTs, and WASPs.

"I'm not certain. I just know that my education will need to be well rounded and that it will be difficult," Harry said, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I … I want to go for it though. I realize that a Mastery in Defense is the hardest Mastery to achieve, but I think that it will be well worth all the effort. Some of the things that I've seen my world's version of you do, sir, were amazing and unbelievable. I want to be able to use my magic in the ways I've seen him use his.

"Well, Mr. Evans, as it seems you're serious about this, you should know that the OWL requirements are Exceeds Expectations or better in Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and History of Magic, and the only acceptable grade in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Transfigurations is Outstanding," Dumbledore informed.

"And the NEWTs?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"You will be required to achieve Exceeds Expectations or better in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfigurations, and an Outstanding with no exceptions in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore listed off. "The WASPs aren't required, but they will greatly help you, especially with the two fields you've chosen to study."

"I'm not sure two years will be long enough for me to graduate with my OWLs, NEWTs, and WASPs," Harry said, sounding a bit discouraged. "At least, not with the scores that I need to make. I haven't sat a single Ancient Runes or Arithmancy class in my life, and I barely paid attention in History of Magic."

"You'll have the entire Library and all the professors at your disposal. What you want to achieve over the next two years is possible, Mr. Evans," Dumbledore assured. "Hogwarts hasn't had a student set on going for a Mastery in Defense for near fifteen years. Every member of the Hogwarts Staff will be more than willing to help you. If you put in the proper effort, I guarantee that you'll graduate with your year group _and_ with the scores necessary to pursue a Mastery in Defense."

Harry took a moment to study Dumbledore's face, trying to find a false hope or lie, but all he could see in the old man's eyes was honest sincerity.

"I'll put in my best effort, sir," Harry said earnestly.

"That is all anyone can ask." Dumbledore smiled. After a moment, his smile turned into a serious line. "There is one other thing that we need to discuss, before you depart."

Harry sat up a bit straighter at this and gave Dumbledore his full attention.

"I would offer for your tuition to be paid through the Scholarship Fund of Hogwarts, but a family from the Order of the Phoenix has stepped forward and has offered to not only provide your tuition costs, but to also provide for whatever material needs you may have," Dumbledore said tentatively.

"Which family?" Harry asked, while feeling that he already knew the answer.

"The Potters," Dumbledore stated simply, before elaborating. "They realize that you've not grown up with any semblance of family and that expecting you to suddenly accept them as your family would be too much for them to ask of you. However, until the time that you are comfortable with them and the idea, they wish to at least provide for you."

"So, Lily knows about me?" Harry questioned with uncertainty, his emotions and thoughts reeling. He wasn't sure what to make of the offer. The Potters weren't technically his family or obligated to him in any way. The James and Lily of this world had lived and had gone on to have a total five children. They weren't _really _his parents, _his_ James and Lily. He had decided as much only a few days after waking up in this new world, just as he had decided that this Sirius wasn't really _his_ Sirius.

"Yes, and both she and James were most adamant that they be here today," Dumbledore confirmed. "However, I warned them off. I felt that this decision should be yours to make without you being coerced in any way. Not to mention, you seem to be a very independent young man, and I didn't think that you'd appreciate being pressured into anything. Of course, if you do turn down their offer, the Scholarship Fund will cover your costs, and headquarters will remain open to you no matter what you decide."

Harry let out a long breath and ran a hand through his loose hair. Either option left him dependent on someone else. Though, it wasn't like he could exactly provide from himself. He was deposited in this world with nothing to his name, not even the clothes on his back had survived the trip through the void. He knew that even if he worked the rest of the summer, he wouldn't have anywhere near enough galleons to pay for the tuition cost to attend Hogwarts, let alone pay for all the books and supplies that he was going to need.

Harry knew from his many days of research that the Scholarship Fund of Hogwarts was funded through donations, and it helped pay the tuition of several children, whose families were hard off or who didn't have anyone at all to provide for them. Though it could be said that he qualified as such a case, the Potter's offer couldn't just be discounted. Their offer would allow for a good portion of the Scholarship Fund to be reserved for someone else in need. He didn't want to accept help from either party, but he had no other choice. It was one or the other.

"Tell the Potters that, if they really want to, they can cover everything … but that it will only be a loan," Harry said, coming to a decision that he knew he could cope with. "Tell them that I appreciate their offer of sponsorship, but it's a little too late for me to start depending on others, and it is not my intentions to insult their generosity. It is just that I would feel more comfortable knowing that the money they gift to me now, I will someday repay in full."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, looking like he had expected Harry's answer. "Just know that they are more than willingly to be there for you, if you find yourself in need of any sort of support or advice, Mr. Evans."

Harry nodded in acknowledge of Dumbledore's words, but gave no other response. It was abundantly clear to both of them that he had just drawn a line for where he stood on the matter of his alternate 'Aunt Lily' and 'Uncle James'.

"You plan to remain at Grimmauld Place?" Dumbledore inquired., clearly sensing not to press the matter any further.

"Yes, I don't see any other desirable option, plus it's familiar to me," Harry verified. The old house was the one thing that seemed to be exactly the same. It was still rundown looking and filled with cobwebs. It still had a dark and unwelcoming feel to it. The old ancestral home brought him more comfort than he cared to admit. "If we are done here, sir, I should be heading back."

"I'll let the Potters know of your decision," Dumbledore said affirmatively. "Expect Sirius sometime later this evening. He'll need to get your official statement to turn into the Ministry."

"Until next time, Headmaster," Harry said with a polite bow of his head, before getting up.

"Until next time, Mr. Evans," Dumbledore said with similar sentiment.

Harry turned away from Dumbledore and headed over to the hearth. He threw a handful of floo powder into the flames and called out his destination, as he stepped into the emerald fire. The second his feet connected with the floor of Number 12, he headed up stairs to take another short nap. Sirius would no doubt come and wake him up soon enough.

–

The rough shaking of his shoulder brought Harry out of a state of sleep and back into the world of consciousness. He blinked his eyes blurrily, before focusing them on the solid form of Sirius Black, who was kneeling beside his bed.

"Meet me down in the kitchen," Sirius ordered, before standing up and leaving the room.

Once his door was firmly shut, Harry sat up and rubbed at his face in tired frustration. He brushed his hand through his hair – smoothing out some of its tangles – as he got up to freshen up a bit, before heading downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen a few minutes later, he saw Sirius waiting for him at the table. He silently crossed over to him and sat down in the chair opposite of the man.

"Mr. Evans, my name is Auror Black," Sirius said, jumping right into business. "I am here today to get your account of the events that occurred July 17th, 1998. Understand that this conversation may be submitted into a pensieve and used as evidence in a court of law. For the record, I now ask that you state your full name and place of residence."

"My full name is Kendrick Tarrant Evans," Harry complied with confidence. "My place of residence at the time of the events in question was 16 Mongolia Road, Little Whinging, Surrey. The address of my current place of residence I am unable to give."

Sirius nodded and then asked. "Mr. Evans, what do you remember happening on the 17th of July?"

"I got up late, like any other day during summer break," Harry began. "During breakfast, I had a row with my foster mum. I didn't want to remain at the house afterwards, so I went for a walk. I wander the neighborhood for a while and ended up heading into the main part of town around noon. I had lunch at a local pub and met up with a friend. We hung out for a bit, before splitting ways. On my way back home, I stopped off in my neighborhood park. I went to sit on one of the picnic tables, when I noticed a rather beat up Frisbee lying in the grass. I could tell that there was something off about it, so I went over to investigate. I was about to pick up it, when I sensed that it held magic of some sort."

"You sensed that it was magical?" Sirius questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, when you are a wizard living in an all muggle environment, it's fairly easy to become sensitive to magical items placed within your normally non-magical surroundings." Harry shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "I can't sense something magical with meters or several centimeters of distance between me and the object in question, but as I said, I nearly picked the Frisbee up. Being that close, I could feel the energy that it possessed."

"What happen then? Did you pick it up?" Sirius asked.

"Not immediately," Harry said with a shake of his head. "I withdrew my hand from it, knowing that I probably shouldn't pick up something of unknown origins and that the best thing for me to do was to alert the Aurors. However, just then, a little boy of four or five years came running over. The boy only got as far as saying, 'Hi. Can I play with you?', while reaching for the Frisbee, before I reacted on instinct and snatch the Frisbee out of his grasp. The next thing I knew, everything was spinning, and I felt like I was being drained of all my energy. I passed out not long after."

"Do you remember seeing any suspicious figures in the park or hanging around your neighborhood?" Sirius questioned seriously.

"No, not that I noticed." Harry shook his head.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Evans," Sirius said with polite nod of his head. "I'll drop back by, if any more question come to mind, or if anything is found in regards to the portkey that you picked up."

"I'd appreciate it, Auror Black. Have a good evening, sir," Harry said, bowing his head in return.

Sirius didn't respond or even move to get up from his chair. After a long moment's pause, he reached into his robes and withdrew a small gold object.

"James asked me to give this to you," Sirius said, holding the object out in offering.

Harry eyes widen in recognition. Sitting in Sirius's extend hand was a Gringotts vault key.

"It's to a minor vault," Sirius explained, while still holding out the key in offering. "Your Hogwarts tuition will be paid directly out of the Potter accounts, so the money inside will be yours, for whatever you want to use it for."

Harry nodded his understanding and took the offered key. After all, he had agreed to let the Potters support him financially. Though, he hadn't expected anything of this magnitude. However, the idea of having his own vault filled with galleons for his own use did set him at easy. He felt a bit more comfortable with the situation, knowing that he wouldn't have to ask the Potters for money every time that he needed it. Plus, with how things were set up, it would be very easy for him to keep track of the amount of galleons that he would need to pay the Potters back with in the future.

"And Albus wanted me to give you this," Sirius said, while removing a familiar looking envelope from his robes. "He got the Board of Governors together right after you left, and they approved your request for transfer and your chosen fields of study for your WASPs."

Harry, again, nodded his understanding, as he took the offered envelope. He broke the seal and smiled, as he read over the top sheet of parchment.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a WASP student. Enclosed, you will find a descriptive list of what is expected from our WASP students and a list of books and equipment that have been assigned to all seven years of our OWL and NEWT students. Purchase what you will at your own discretion._

_Term begins September 1__st__. WASP students are expect to arrive on campus by the 28__th__ of August, no later than 5:00 PM. WASP student orientation will be held on August 31__st__. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Harry set the letter aside and read over the next piece of parchment in the stack. This sheet he found to be very interesting. Dumbledore had vaguely hinted that WASP students were operating on a separate program from the OWL and NEWT students. However, he hadn't expected for things to be all that different.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_What it means to be a WASP student:_

_- WASP students have no classes that they are required to attend and no course books they are required to purchase. Your studies are fully independent, and you are solely in charge of what you learn. At the end of each term you will be expect to turn in a report of your progress to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, which will be delivered to the Board of Governors. If it is felt that you aren't making a true effort and that you aren't taking advantage of the opportunities that the WASP program offers, you'll be put on probation. If the report you turn in the following term shows that, again, you are not making a serious effort in your studies, you'll be dismissed from the program._

_- For WASP students, there are not detentions or reductions of house points. You are old enough now that treating your fellow students, the Staff, and Hogwarts property with an unfailing decorum of respect should not be too difficult or too much to ask. You have three warnings for minor infractions, before you begin receiving automatic demerits. Large infractions will be worth an immediate demerit. You only have three demerits. After that, you will be kicked out of the program._

_- WASP students are no longer considered a part of any house. You are assigned to a suite within the castle. The suites range from five bedroom to two bedroom. With consideration of the requests made at the end of the previous school year, you will be assigned to a suite with like minded individuals. All suites are equipped with a common area, a kitchen and dining area, a communal bathroom, and private living quarters for each student. Each suite is assigned a house elf. The elf will be responsible for you and your roommates care. You are expected to at least treat the elf servicing your suite with indifference, if you cannot bring yourself to treat him or her with respect. If you abuse your elf, you will receive a double demerit. There is no tolerance on this matter._

_- As all WASP students are of age and are considered licensed witches and wizards, the Hogwarts Professors will not be monitoring who enters whose suites, nor will they be monitoring any activities taking place within your suites. However, PDA and language in the halls or out on the grounds are still prohibited to a modest level and drinking and smoking in public areas is still very much forbidden. We ask that you keep such behavior and habits to your suite or off Hogwarts property entirely. (Note that OWL and NEWT students are not permitted into WASP student suites. WASP students are allowed to be invited into the Houses, but are not permitted beyond the common areas. You are expected to behave by the rules and restrictions of the OWL and NEWT students, when spending time within the Houses. Infractions will result in a demerit.) _

_- Our WASP students are permitted to use the floo in their suites to travel off Hogwarts grounds. However, the floo activity in the suites will be monitored and each floo will be keyed specifically to the students assigned to each individual suite. You may make or receive floo calls to or from anyone of your choosing, but only you and your roommates will be able to physically move through the floo in your suite. We ask that, if you plan on being off Hogwarts grounds for a period of time longer than one day, that you inform Deputy Headmistress McGonagall of what date you plan to return. Being absent for longer than a week, without an approved request, is unacceptable and will result in a demerit._

_- WASP students will not be asked to wear the Hogwarts uniform, though you may if you so choose. You are permitted to dress in whatever style that you prefer. However, we do ask that your clothes cover you appropriately and that you at least wear an outer robe over any muggle attire during meals in the Great Hall. If we continually find your attire unacceptable, you will be asked to wear the Hogwarts uniform for the duration of your schooling._

_- As a WASP student, you now have several privileges that you didn't have before. A few of those freedoms granted to you that we ask you not to abuse are as follows: you may now enter the restricted section of the library without a pass, use magic in the corridors, stay out on the grounds past dark, and be out of your assigned suite at any time of day or night. The positions of Head Boy, Head Girl, and Prefect are left to the younger students. You are exempt from abiding by them, but you will have to answer to the Professors, if you take advantage of these freedoms given to you._

_- Though you are now a WASP student of Hogwarts, do not forget that you are now a legal adult by over a year and are licensed as such. This means, you are no longer afforded the legal protection that Hogwarts extends to its OWL and NEWT students. Your conduct within the school, as well as outside of it, is subject to Ministry Law. Keep that in mind, before deciding to engage in any form of questionable activity over the coming years. Foolish behavior can no longer be brushed off as a teenager's mistake, and the Ministry will not allow Hogwarts to step in on your behalf to offer alternative punishment._

_AS A WASP STUDENT, YOU ARE SOLEY RESPONIBLE FOR YOURSELF, YOUR ACTIONS, AND YOUR EDUCATION._

"Any questions?" Sirius asked, as Harry set the list of expectations aside.

"No. It seems pretty straight forward," Harry denied with a shake of his head.

"Then I should get going," Sirius said and pushed his chair back.

"Oh, well, thanks for dropping these off, Auror Black," Harry said, while indicating to his newly acquired Gringotts vault key and his acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

"It was no problem." Sirius shrugged, as he got up. "Have a good evening."

"You too." Harry nodded.

As Sirius walked over to the floo, Harry turned his attention to the piece of parchment still in his hand.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_COURSE BOOKS _

_First Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)__ by Miranda Goshawk  
__Magical Theory__ by Adalbert Waffling  
__A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration__ by Emeric Switch__  
A History of Magic__ by Bathilda Bangshot  
__One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi__ by Phyllida Spore  
__Magical Drafts and Potions__ by Arsenius Jigger  
__Practical Defense for Beginners __by Jarred Harford__  
Beasts of Darkness, A Guide to Fighting Back__ by Roland Waterloo_

_Second Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)__ by Miranda Goshawk_

_Third Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3)__ by Miranda Goshawk__  
Intermediate Transfigurations__ by Simon Barter  
__Countering the Dark Arts__ by Haynes Kempner  
__The Monstrous Book of Monsters__ by Robert Munster  
__Ancient Runes Made Easy__ by Devon Glyph  
__Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms__ by Jess Royce  
__Reading the Old Languages__ by Fannie Stone__  
Rune Dictionary__ by Evelyn Westar__  
Runes Translations in Context__ by Rick Mansur  
__Spellman's Syllabary__ by Tanner Olden  
Numerology and Grammatica__ by Septima Vector_

_Forth Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4)__ by Miranda Goshawk_

_Fifth Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5)__ by Miranda Goshawk_

_Sixth Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6)__ by Miranda Goshawk  
__Guide to Advanced Transfigurations__ by Amanda Twist  
__Advance Potions Making__ by Libatius Borage  
__Modern Magical History__ by Stephen Smith  
__Battling the Unknown and Unseen__ by Piktus Hobe  
__Runes, More Than Just A Language__ by Allen Cross  
Advance Rune Translation__ by Yuri Blishen  
Arithmancy Applied__ by Septima Vector_

_Seventh Year Course Books:  
_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7)__ by Miranda Goshawk_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT  
_

_1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal vials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
1 pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

Harry sighed, as he set the list aside. It was probably best that he bought the whole lot. Though he had already taken his OWLs once before, he hadn't done all that great on them. Plus, he needed to actually learn Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It wouldn't hurt for him to have the full selection of books. That way he could refer to them whenever he needed to.

Harry refolded the three slips of parchment and put them back in the envelope they came in. He grabbed up the envelope and his Gringotts key and headed back up stairs. He hadn't slept much lately and going back to bed sounded good. The two short naps he had taken just weren't cutting it, and he could still feel exhaustion pulling on him. Besides, tomorrow would be his eighteenth birthday – not that he would really celebrate it – but he could now go out and buy himself some clothes and a wand. Though, he would need to actually be awake and alert to do so, as Voldemort and his Death Eaters were far from being non-active in this world.


	5. Shopping

**Chapter 4: Shopping**

Harry smiled, as he walked down the cobble path of Diagon Alley. Despite the light drizzle of rain and the fact that the people around him seemed a bit nervous and jumpy, he couldn't help but be happy at seeing all the shops up and running, none of them yet decimated into piles of rubble or abandoned out of fear. As he weaved his way through the sea of anxious shoppers on his way to Gringotts, he passed by Quality Quidditch Supplies, which was advertising the new Firebolt Flash, Flourish and Blott's, which had several colorful posters hung in its windows, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, which had a line of customers waiting to give their orders, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which had several robe styles and fabric patterns on display, and several other shops, all of which were clearly open and doing a fair amount of business. It was a sight he hadn't seen in a very long time and his smile grew with each step.

Upon reaching the bank, however, Harry's smile disappeared and uneasy settled in his stomach. He glanced up at the engraved poem of warning to all thieves and felt the weight of uneasy in his stomach intensify. The goblins hadn't been very forgiving in his world, despite the necessity of his, Ron, and Hermione's actions. He could now say that he knew better than most how vicious goblins actually were, and it wasn't an experience that he desired to repeat. Doing his best to contain his wariness of the small creatures, Harry stepped up to one of the open teller stations.

"I need to activate a vault," Harry said, while retrieving the vault key that Sirius had delivered to him the day before and holding it out in presentation.

The goblin took the key from him and inspected it, turning it every which way and running its long, bony fingers over every inch of it.

"You must validate the key, before activating the vault." The goblin sneered and slid the key back towards Harry.

"How do I do that?" Harry inquired evenly.

The goblin said nothing and the sneer did not disappear from its face, as it reached below the counter and withdrew an ornate dagger from its drawer. It held the dagger out to Harry in offering.

"One drop of blood," the goblin ordered, while gesturing to the small, gold key that was still sitting on the counter in front of Harry.

Harry took the dagger from the goblin and pricked his finger. He let a drop of blood fall onto the gold surface of the key, before sucking his finger into his mouth to stop the bleeding. He watched curiously, as his blood was absorbed into the key. After a short pause, where nothing happened, the key glowed with magic and then returned to normal.

"Follow me, Mr. Evans," the goblin said grudgingly, as it placed the dagger back in the drawer it had withdrew it from and motioned to the doors leading to the carts.

After a quick, flying trip, they arrived outside of Vault 542. Harry gave his key to the goblin, who then inserted it into the keyhole and turned it a full turn. There was the brief sound of locks clicking into place and then the thick door slowly swung open. Harry's eyes widened, as he peered into the vault, seeing a cavern that was just as big as and just as full as his trust vault in his old world. Silently, he stepped into the vault and retrieved a bottomless money bag from the wall. He loaded it up, using a counter to count out 1000 galleons.

After another quick trip in the rickety cart, Harry was back above ground and headed out of Gringotts. As he walked down the rain coated steps of the bank, he pulled up the hood of the black cloak that he was wearing and set his sights on Ollivander's. Like in his world, a single wand sat on a dusty purple cushion in the display window. He wandered into the seemingly empty shop, his eyes scanning over the familiar and disorganized shelves of wand boxes and the ancient cash register sitting at the counter in the center of the store.

"Good morning," a soft voice whispered into the silence of the shop.

Harry whirled to his left to see Mr. Ollivander emerging from the back shelves.

"Good morning, sir," Harry greeted and strolled up to meet the man at the counter. "My wand has recently been lost to me in an accident of sorts, and I now find myself in need of a new one."

"I did not sell you your last wand," Mr. Ollivander said knowingly, as his eyes swept over Harry critically.

"No, sir," Harry agreed. "My last wand was secondhand."

"What family do you hail from?" Mr. Ollivander queered with an assessing intensity in his silvery eyes.

"I'm a Muggle-born," Harry said flatly, feeling slightly unnerved by the man's scrutiny. "Kendrick Evans, sir."

"Ah …" Mr. Ollivander breathed with clarity. "You are related to Lily Potter."

"She's a distant cousin." Harry nodded, while shifting uncomfortably, as the old man's eyes narrowed at him.

"Interesting," Mr. Ollivander said with a vague air.

"Er … right …" Harry said awkwardly.

"And your last wand, what was it made of?" Mr. Ollivander asked, seeming to decide to get down to business.

"Holly and phoenix feather," Harry answered promptly.

"An unusual combination," Mr. Ollivander murmured.

Harry just watched – feeling perplexed by the man's words and actions – as Mr. Ollivander began wandering the shelves, pulling down various boxes, muttering to himself, shaking his head, and replacing them. It took several minutes of this, before, finally, Mr. Ollivander pulled down a very dusty box that Harry recognized. Mr. Ollivander looked from the box to Harry with wonder, before coming back to the counter. With shaky hands, Mr. Ollivander lifted the lid of the box and offered it to Harry. Harry sighed in contentment, as his magic and the alternate version of his original wand united in a display of gold and silver sparks.

"Interesting indeed, Mr. Evans," Mr. Ollivander said with perceptive eyes trained on Harry.

"How much?" Harry asked, desiring to leave the wand shop as soon as possible.

"7 Galleons," Mr. Ollivander said expectantly.

Harry quickly retrieved the proper amount from his purse and handed it over, before pocketing his wand, giving Mr. Ollivander a brief nod of farewell, and exiting the shop. He headed back up Diagon Alley towards Gringotts with a purposeful walk. As he approached the white stoned building, he pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his head, so that most of his face was obscured. Instead of heading up the steps of the bank or further down Diagon Alley, he turned and took off down Knockturn Alley. The atmosphere around him shifted to something much darker and all the bright colors faded away. The nervous shoppers were quickly replaced with imposing figures and scraggly looking peddlers. With a tight grip on his pocketed wand, Harry maneuvered his way through the unsavory crowd, being careful not to bump into anyone or even vaguely make eye contact.

After several twists and turns of walking with a focused destination, he pushed open the doors of a nondescript shop that had no display windows or apparent sign. Inside, shelves lined the walls and formed rows in the open floor space. All were filled with worn and ancient looking books. Harry passed the young sales attendant, who was manning the front counter, and moved to the back of the store. Molded to the far left corner was a set of stares. He climbed up them, lowering his hood, as he went. A slight shiver ran down his spine, as he passed through the wards protecting the top of the stairs. The upper flat of the shop was drastically different to the secondhand bookstore below. Various expensive and dangerous potions ingredients and several different pre-brewed potions took up the shelves, while a well equipped brewing station sat in the center of the flat. It was at this station that a man in his early fifties was currently working.

"You an Auror?" the man demanded, as he spared a brief glance towards Harry.

"I made it through your wards, didn't I?" Harry questioned in return, while stepping to the side of the top of the stairs.

"You smell like an Auror," the man grumbled, as he turned down the heat under the cauldron that he had been working on and wiped his hands on his apron.

"Even if I were, I sure as hell don't have any strong sentiments of loyalty to the Ministry, now do I?" Harry challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye." The man nodded in acceptance of Harry's statement as truth. "What you need?"

"I'm in need of a way to change my name in ways more than just on ink and paper," Harry replied smoothly. "It needs to be foolproof and permanent, something strong enough that even the best of our great Ministry couldn't break through the magic to find the truth."

"That's a mighty tall order, sonny, and it is going to cost you quite a few pretty galleons," the man said, while moving over to the lone bookcase in the room.

"The cost is the cost." Harry shrugged, as he watched the man tap the spine of one of the books with his wand. A second later, the bookcase swung forward to reveal a very organized storeroom.

"165 galleons and not a knut less," the man said pointedly, as he emerged from the room carrying a dark purple potion.

Harry stepped up to the brewing station and counted out the requested coinage, knowing better than to complain about the price. He slid the stack of galleons to the man and accepted the potion offered to him. As he pocketed the vial of dark purple liquid, he asked, "What's the procedure?"

"You drink it, while concentrating on the name you want. With a blood quill, you write out your new name on a piece of parchment that has been embedded with your magic," the man grumbled, while peering into the cauldron of the potion that he had previously been working on. "You'll know when it takes."

"Where would you suggest procuring a blood quill at, and how would I go about embedding my magic into a piece of parchment?" Harry questioned, as the man added several deadly looking leaves to the potion and stirred it a few times.

The man grumbled quietly to himself and turned away from the brewing station. He crossed over to a desk that sat in the back left corner of the flat, opening several drawers and retrieving an item from each. When he came back over, he set out a piece of parchment, a blood quill, and a piece of claylike chalk. He took the chalk and began writing out set of runes on the parchment. When he finished, he motioned for Harry to stand beside him.

"Place your wand here and don't remove it until the parchment flashes," the man instructed and then went back to monitor his potion.

Harry did as instructed. The second his wand connected with the rune set, the parchment was covered in a light blue glow. There was a bright flash of magic and then the glow was gone, leaving a plain and unused piece of parchment. Harry glanced to the man for further instruction, only to see the man stirring in a measure of acidic goop into the cauldron in front of him and paying him no mind. With a trace of uncertainty, Harry removed the cork on the dark purple potion and downed it, while concentrating on the name that he had fashioned for himself. He picked up the blood quill and pressed it to the parchment, discretely writing out in his best hand:

_Kendrick Tarrant Evans_

He had to quickly jerk his hands back, after finishing off the 's' in Evans, as the parchment flashed brightly and then erupted in flames. He watched, as the sheet disintegrated and a floating ball of glowing energy formed above the flames. Abruptly the ball shot towards him, impacting his chest. He gasped and grabbed at the surface of the brewing station, as the wind was momentarily knock out of him and a burning sensation erupted within him. A charge of hot magic crept under his skin, pumping through his blood and consuming his mind. Then, just as quickly as the magic had taken him, it receded, and he was left with the unquestionable knowledge of his new identity ingrained deep within his psyche. The name Harry James Potter had become his past. Kendrick Tarrant Evans was now his present and his foreseeable future.

"Congratulations. Now, I have work to do," the man said in a board tone of dismissal.

"Thank you for your assistance," Kendrick said appreciatively, dropping a few more galleons in front of the man and then heading for the stairs.

Kendrick pulled his hood back over his head and made sure it obscured his face, before descending down to the ground floor of the shop. He passed through the maze of bookshelves and ignored the sales attendant on his way out. He backtracked his way through Knockturn Alley. Once lost in the crowd of shoppers in Diagon Alley, he pushed back his hood just enough for his face to be a bit more visible. As he entered Madam Malkin's shop, stepping out of the rain, he removed his cloak altogether.

"Good morning, sir," Madam Malkin said by way of greeting, upon poking her head out from the back fitting area.

"Good morning, madam," Kendrick said, strolling towards her. He smiled at seeing a young boy standing on one of the stools, clearly getting fitted for Hogwarts robes.

"What can I do for you?" Madam Malkin asked, as she helped the boy remove the robes that she'd just finished pinning.

"I'm in need of a full wardrobe," Kendrick told her. "Everything from casual robes to dress robes to sleep wear and essentials."

"Any particular style?" Madam Malkin queered, glancing at the robes that Kendrick was currently wearing.

"Non-traditional, open robes … with a strong muggle influence …" Kendrick said hesitantly, while trying to remember what Hermione had called the robes that he had had tailored during his trip to Madam Malkin with her a month back in his world. "And I like the tunic shirts, the ones that are simple without the ruffles and beads, and the pants that lace up instead of button or zip."

"Colors, young man?" Madam Malkin questioned, as she busied herself with setting the boy's stack of robes to hem themselves.

"Blues, reds, greens, grays, blacks, whites, whatever you think would look good," Kendrick said, shrugging.

"And how much are you willing to pay, Mister …?" Madam Malkin took the first set of the boy's robes that had finished hemming and folded them.

"Evans, Kendrick Evans, and I am willing to pay up to 200 galleons. I don't want anything overly extravagant, but I do want quality," Kendrick told her seriously.

"Hop up on a stool and I'll be with you in a moment," Madam Malkin instructed with an affirmative nod, before turning to the boy and handing him his stack of finished robes. "Come along, lad, that's going to be 19 galleons."

It was over four hours and 187 galleons later, that Kendrick was finally ready to leave Madam Malkin's shop. The process hadn't been any less painful than it had been, when he had gone robe shopping with Hermione. Madam Malkin had called in one of her assistants to come in early and had focused her full attention on him, making him try on various articles of clothing and getting his opinion on every alteration she made. She seemed more and more excited, as she took the wizard traditional robes, pants, and shirt that she had patterns for and he allowed her bring them in tighter in some places and looser in others, add in folds and slits that would be left free or to be buttoned, tied, or clasped, and do several other things to them that she had seen in muggle fashion over the last few decades that most wizards had no desire for.

"Today, Mr. Evans, you brought me a real treat. It's not often that I get to truly be creative with my designs." Madam Malkin smiled, her eyes roaming over the new robes, shirt, and pants that Kendrick was wearing, as she handed him the bag that contained the rest of his purchases and his old set of robes.

"Well, thank you for everything, Madam Malkin," Kendrick said pleasantly. "Have a good afternoon."

"You as well, young man," Madam Malkin said with a nod of her head in farewell.

Kendrick shrunk the bag containing his purchases and pocketed it, before leaving the shop and heading towards the Leaky Cauldron to have lunch. He ordered a cold cut sandwich with crisps and a butterbeer from Tom and ate his meal in silence, after holding a brief conversation with the old bartender. When he finished, he headed back into Diagon Alley, stopping off at Eberstark's Trunk a few shops down from the entrance to the alley.

Trunks, suitcases, luggage cases, various sizes of bags, and several displays of backpacks were spread all across the small shop. Kendrick weaved his way around a stack of suitcases on display in the center of the shop and headed back to the trunks. He skipped past the standard student trunks and began looking at the compartment trunks. With all the books he planned on getting and all the clothes he now had, there would be no fitting everything in a student trunk.

"Can I help you find something?" a man in his mid-forties with blond hair asked, as he approached Kendrick.

"I need a multiple compartment trunk." Kendrick said, as he bent down to examine a trunk made of cherry wood.

"Is there anything in specific you're hoping to use it for?" Mr. Eberstark queried.

"Basically, I need one that can hold a lot of stuff and that I could live out, if necessary," Kendrick answered, while popping the latches on the trunk that he was looking at and pushing open the lid.

"Something to keep your belongings well organized then?" Mr. Eberstark questioned.

"Exactly." Kendrick smiled up at the man.

"I have just the thing," Mr. Eberstark said and went over to an ornate trunk that had a mixture of oak, dragon hide, and dark silver and iron plating. He indicated to the very complex lock that didn't have a keyhole, but instead a depiction of a hawk with its wings spread wide. "It has four separate compartments. You access each compartment by the position of the lock. Right now, it will open the first compartment." He said, while pointing out that the lock was in the upright position. He then turned the lock a quarter of a turn to the right, "the second compartment." He turned it another quarter turn, "the third compartment." He turned it another turn, "and the fourth compartment." He turned it one more turn, putting it back in the upright position. He tapped the lock with his wand and then opened the lid. "Come have a look."

Kendrick got up, closing the cherry trunk as he did, and went over to examine the trunk that Mr. Eberstark was holding open. He peered inside to see a standard trunk space with a half-slot organizing tray. He ran his hand over the interior of the trunk, brushing his fingers over the smooth oak slats.

"Each slat is infused with runes to resist all forms of damage and are all sealed together perfectly with multiple layers of magic. Whether you travel through a sand storm or a rain storm, whether it is sweltering hot or freezing cold, the contents of the trunk will remain unaffected," Mr. Eberstark said proudly. "There is also a status charm placed on each compartment, which will prevent your belongings from being jostled about, once the lid is closed. You won't ever have to worry about your trunk becoming disorganized after a bumpy trip, nor will you ever have to worry about your breakable items becoming broken."

"It's very nice," Kendrick commented, while wondering why he had settled for such a susceptible trunk before. "And the other compartments?"

"Ah, here is the beauty of this trunk," Mr. Eberstark said excitedly and shut the lid. He turned the lock a quarter of a turn and then tapped the lock with his wand. With a twist of magic, the trunk was sitting up on its side, expanded in size, and the lock appearing to be in the proper upright position. Mr. Eberstark slid the trunk open and gestured for Kendrick to have a look inside. "The peg slides out and is actually a hanging rack."

To say Kendrick was impressed would be an understatement. The trunk was now almost as tall as him. In the right half of the trunk, there was an open space to hang robes and whatever else. When he pulled on the peg that protruded from within the trunk and slid it out, he saw that the peg really was full length hanging rack and that the trunk had been expanded in depth to accommodate it. He slid the rack back into place and turned to explore the left side of the trunk. This side contained a set of drawers that sat at about waist height and was about a half of a meter in depth, making for a descent sized dresser, while an accessory and shoe shelf consumed the upper half of the available space.

"What else can it do?" Kendrick asked, taking a step back.

Mr. Eberstark grinned and shut the trunk. He turned the lock and then tapped it with his wand. Once again, the trunk twisted with magic and then sitting before them was another trunk. While it looked similar to the first, it was taller, reaching around waist height, and was a bit wider. Mr. Eberstark tapped the lock twice, and instantly, all pretenses of a trunk faded away, leaving a brewing station in its place.

"When the lid and panels of the trunk come back, the lid is expanded inside, so you can store ongoing projects," Mr. Eberstark explained, indicating to the stone topped, work surface.

"Nice," Kendrick said appreciatively, as he took in the shelves, the set of drawers, and the glass fronted store cupboard that was housed beneath the slab of stone. It was perfectly set up for storing cauldrons, potions ingredients, and pre-brewed potions. "And the last compartment?"

Mr. Eberstark smiled widely and tapped his wand three times on the imprinted hawk that was formed into the front edge of the stone. The trunk encased the brewing station instantaneous. He then turned the lock a quarter of a rotation and tapped his wand to it. The trunk reformed into at trunk that was similar to the second trunk, expect a bit wider. When Mr. Eberstark opened it, the trunk folded out to reveal a bookcase in left half and a writing desk with a backless stool slid beneath it and a series of scroll racks set above it in the right half.

"What do you think?" Mr. Eberstark asked expectantly.

"I think it's perfect," Kendrick said, his eyes roaming appreciatively over the small office before him. "I'm curious though, is there something specific you need to do to open each compartment, or is it real as simple as tapping your wand to the lock?"

"Well, right now, the lock isn't marked, and I haven't set a locking spell on the trunk, so it is as simple as anyone taping their wand to the lock," Mr. Eberstark informed. "However, upon purchasing the trunk, you'll need to mark the lock to get the full benefits of the trunk's security. To mark it, you just place the tip of your wand to the lock and mentally think of a pass phrase, while giving the verbal incantation of the locking spell. As long as you don't allow your pass phrase to become common knowledge, no one else will be able to get into your trunk without a serious bit of spell casting. And with the password protect locking spell in place, you only need to think of your pass phrase, while tapping your wand to the lock."

"Can it be shrunk?" Kendrick asked, after giving an approving nod.

"Yes, it can," Mr. Eberstark confirmed, shutting the forth compartment and returning the trunk to its original state. "Feather light charms can be place on it as well. Though, right now, no matter how much stuff you put into it, it is spelled to never weigh more than 2 ½ stones."

"And the cost?" Kendrick inquired with a raise eyebrow.

"115 galleons," Mr. Eberstark informed.

"I'll take it," Kendrick said without pause.

"I'll just bring it up to the front then," Mr. Eberstark said happily.

After completing the transaction, Kendrick shrunk his new trunk and pocketed it. He flipped up the hood on his cloak, as he stepped back out into the rain and headed for Flourish and Blott's.

Upon entering the shop, he pulled the book list that had been sent with his acceptance letter to Hogwarts out of his pocket. He went over to the charms section first and grabbed all seven of Miranda Goshawk's books. He set the stack down on the front counter by a second register that wasn't currently in operation. He then went about collecting the rest of the books that he needed, bring them over to the register, when the stack that he had became too awkward to carry. Once he had everything on the book list, he grabbed copies of the various Defense Against the Dark Arts books that Sirius, Remus, and Hermione had purchased for him back in his old world, as well as a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He decided that any other purchases could wait, until he had a better idea of what books he would need. Still, by the time he left the shop, his purse was around 148 galleons lighter.

Kendrick quickly stopped off in the Scribbulus Writing Instruments, which was next door to Flourish and Blott's, and bought a good supply of parchment, quills, ink, and a professional writing kit, like the one Hermione had made him purchase a little over a month ago for writing official letters. His next stop was Hammersmith Hides. The shop was set up similar to Madam Malkin's except, instead of different pattern choices and fabrics on display, there were hides of various origins. Kendrick's attention was immediately drawn over to the gauntlets and bracers, as they were his main reason for coming into the shop. Though, he was seriously considering getting a pair of boots as well. He had gotten a few pairs of shoes at Madam Malkin's, but they wouldn't provide his feet the same protection that a pair of dragon hide boots would, especially not the dress shoes he had gotten.

Kendrick took his time exploring the various styles of gauntlets and bracers. He had grown accustom to the Auror Standard style that he had been issued upon entering the Auror Academy a few months ago, but he was fairly intrigued by the other styles presented as well. After a fair amount of searching, he settled for a set of Hungarian Horntail, fingerless gauntlets and matching reinforced bracers. The gauntlets drew back over his hands and over his forearms, tying tight along the inside of his forearm with a hidden, built in wand release. The bracers fitted over the gauntlets and strapped on with self tightening cords. The bracers outside wasn't flashy with a metal plate, like some of the other styles, but an intricate pattern was lightly etched into them. They weren't quite simple, but they also weren't over extravagant.

As he made his way over to the display of boots, he picked up a pair of standard, Norwegian Ridgeback work gloves, as well as a Hebridean Black cargo belt that had a single side pouch with a magically expanded interior. Upon looking at the boots, he felt a bit overwhelmed at all the choices.

"Anything I can help you with?" a young attendant asked, as she came over to him.

"Er…I'm not certain which ones to get," Kendrick said, eying the large display wearily, before turning his gaze to the girl, who looked to be about 15 or 16.

"How about I help you choose and then my father can fit them," she suggested brightly.

Kendrick regretted agreeing, before he even agreed. The girl had him try on at least a dozen different pairs, before claiming that they all looked good and told him to try them on again. Kendrick got the distinct impression that she just enjoyed having a reason to repeatedly check him out and didn't want him to leave the shop anytime soon. Luckily, before one hour became two, the girl, Amber, as she had informed him repeatedly, settled on three pairs. He picked the ones that he liked best and sent her to get her father.

"Michal Hammersmith," a burly man introduced, offering his hand to Kendrick.

"Kendrick Evans," Kendrick greeted, shaking the man's offered hand. He detected a flicker of recognition in Mr. Hammersmith's eyes, before the man recomposed himself.

"Did Amber help you find everything okay?" Mr. Hammersmith asked knowingly, seeming quite amused with his daughter's antics.

"Yes, sir." Kendrick nodded. "She was very helpful."

"That's a chap," Mr. Hammersmith said happily, clapping Kendrick on the shoulder. "What say you to getting these fitted and being on your way?"

"I'd greatly appreciate it, sir." Kendrick grinned.

"Have seat." Mr. Hammersmith gestured to the bench Kendrick had been sitting on, before the man had come out of the back.

Kendrick sat down, and Mr. Hammersmith knelt before him. The burly man adjusted the straps and tightened the ties on the calf high boots Kendrick was wearing. He drew his wand over the Hungarian Horntail hide, muttering under his breath the whole time. Kendrick could feel the hide forming around his legs and the soles of the boots conforming to his feet.

"There you go," Mr. Hammersmith said satisfied. "They'll be stiff for a bit, but after a while, they'll be the most comfortable pair of boots you've ever owned. And if I may make a suggestion to go with your purchases …" Mr. Hammersmith said, nodding to the gauntlets, bracers, gloves, and belt Kendrick had selected. "Pick up a vest on your way up to the register. It might not save you from the really nasty spells, but the weaker ones will bounce off."

"Thanks, I hadn't thought about it," Kendrick said appreciatively.

"With going for a Mastery in Defense, you best start thinking about it," Mr. Hammersmith said with a wink.

"How …?" Kendrick asked surprised.

"The Board of Governors are a chatty bunch, and I make it my business to know about all the current and rising competition duelists, Aurors, Hit Wizards, and the like," Mr. Hammersmith explained with a shrug. "I'd expect quite a few people already know your name by now, seeing as it's been near fifteen years since anyone in Britain has decided to go after that particular Mastery."

"Oh," Kendrick said, not quite knowing how to respond. He hadn't expected the news to travel so fast. He'd only declared his intentions the day before, after all.

"Pick out your vest and meet me up at the register." Mr. Hammersmith smiled.

Kendrick watched the man walk off towards the register, feeling a bit bewildered. He wasn't even out of Hogwarts yet, or even apprenticing under a Master, and people were already starting to talk. Shaking off his surprise at that fact, Kendrick shrank the casual shoes that he had previously been wearing and pocketed them. Upon standing, he flexed his ankles a bit, feeling the stiffness of his new boots, before heading over to the display of vests. He quickly picked out a simple, Hungarian Horntail vest that could be worn under nearly any shirt without notice.

"Excellent choice," Mr. Hammersmith approved at seeing the vest added to Kendrick's things, as Kendrick set his purchases down on the counter next to the register.

"How much?" Kendrick asked, retrieving his purse from the pocket of his cloak.

"96 galleons and 14 sickles," Mr. Hammersmith said, after taking a moment to do the calculations.

Kendrick counted out the necessary amount, while Mr. Hammersmith bagged up his gloves and vest.

"I figuring you'd want the belt now, as the pouch is impenetrable to pickpockets, and I need to fit the gauntlets," Mr. Hammersmith explained at Kendrick's questioning look.

"What about the vest, does it need fitting?" Kendrick inquired, while taking off his cloak and setting about strapping the Hebridean Black belt around his waist.

"No, it needs to remain slightly loose to give you proper breathing room and to better allow for minor changes in your body," Mr. Hammersmith denied, watching as Kendrick shrank the bag with his newly purchased gloves and vest in it, before placing the miniaturized bag and his purse into the pouch on his belt. He waited a few more minutes for Kendrick to transfer all his previous purchases from his cloak into the pouch, before asked. "All set?"

At Kendrick's confirmatory nod, Mr. Hammersmith picked up one of the gauntlets and gestured for Kendrick to hold out is right arm. Like with fitting Kendrick's boots, Mr. Hammersmith tightened and tied off the gauntlet, before running his wand along it and muttering under his breath.

"Is there a style of gauntlet or boot that you don't need to be fitted?" Kendrick inquired, while thinking about how the gauntlets and bracers that he had been issued by the Aurors hadn't needed to be fitted. He flexed his right wrist a bit, once Mr. Hammersmith had finished fitting the gauntlet.

"None actually need to be fitted. They just last longer, feel more comfortable, and it ends up being more convenient for my customers, if I do fit them." Mr. Hammersmith secured the matching bracer over the gauntlet on Kendrick's arm and fitted it as well. "The hide has a mesh memory. When you take these and your boots off and then put them back on, they'll tighten themselves perfectly, based on how I fit them today. Over time, your vest will conform itself to you as well, though not as tightly."

"So I won't have to spend an hour putting these on every day?" Kendrick asked with a pleased note and held out his left arm.

"Exactly." Mr. Hammersmith nodded, while placing the other gauntlet on Kendrick's extended arm.

"Well, that's a relief." Kendrick grinned.

"You're not the first one to think so." Mr. Hammersmith chuckled, before setting about fitting the gauntlet. A moment later, he attacked the matching bracer and fitted it as well. Once finished, he gave Kendrick a once over. "Well, you certainly make an impressive sight. Let's just hope you can live up to the image."

Kendrick raised an eyebrow at that, before turning to look in the mirror that Mr. Hammersmith had gestured to. Looking at himself now, it was hard to believe that he'd ever been a scrawny little git dressed in over-sized clothes. Over the last few years, he had truly grown into his own. Standing at nearly 6' with muscles built up from Quidditch, fighting in the war, and then doing two months of Auror training, he truly did hold more of an imposing figure than he ever had before. However, with his hair long, his glasses gone, and with him decked out in properly sized clothing that actually looked to be of value and suited him well, along with dragon hide gear topping it all off, he did make for a dangerous sight.

"Let's just say, people never saw me very clearly before." Kendrick smirked and turned back to Mr. Hammersmith. "Thank you for all your assistance today. You and your daughter have been most helpful."

"It was a pleasure. Do come back, if any of your purchases need servicing, or if you think of something else you need," Mr. Hammersmith said cordially.

"I will." Kendrick promised, grabbing his cloak off the counter and pulling it on. He quickly retrieved his wand from the pocket of the cloak and inserted it into the hidden release of his right gauntlet, before looking up at Mr. Hammersmith and giving a nod of farewell. "Have a good evening, sir."

"You as well, Mr. Evans," Mr. Hammersmith replied with a smile.

Kendrick left the shop, pulling up his hood, only to remove it a moment later, upon entering Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, which was right next door to Hammersmith Hides. There he bought a telescope and a nice set of scales, before heading towards Potage's Cauldron Shop. He bought two standard sized 2, pewter cauldrons from Mr. Potage, figuring that he might need a second one, if he ended up working on more than one potion at a time or managed to accidentally melt one of them – the latter being more likely. With one last stop on his list for the day, he crossed the street to Slugs and Jigger's Apothecary.

Stepping inside the shop, he had the notion to turn right back around and step out. Standing at the checkout counter with a scowl marring his face and impatience visible in his body language was Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts. Suppressing his instincts that screamed at him that he had watched Snape die and the man before him should be dead, as well as his older instincts that told him to stay as far away from Snape as possible, Kendrick entered the apothecary. In a feeble attempt to slip past Snape's notice, he casually made his way to the far right corner of the small shop, where there were several pre-brewed potions on display. Despite his efforts to be as unobtrusive as possible, he could sense Snape's beady, black eyes following his every move.

"Here you are, Professor Snape." Kendrick heard Mr. Jigger say apologetically. "Sorry about the mix up."

"This is the third time in the last two weeks," Snape said with an audible sneer in his voice. "I highly suggest finding hired help of more competence than the dunderhead you've currently got working for you, or Mr. Mulpepper might be seeing an increase in business very soon."

"Of course, Professor." Mr. Jigger sighed tiredly.

The sound of light footsteps and then the shop door opening a moment later, followed by the door closing, alerted Kendrick to the fact that Snape had left. With the coast now clear, he turned away from the corner display and stepped up to the counter.

"How may I help you this evening?" Mr. Jigger asked with a forced smile.

"I need a full brewing kit, stocked with all the commonly used ingredients, as well as some of the less commonly used ingredients," Kendrick said purposefully.

"That will take an hour or so to put together," Mr. Jigger informed.

"I have time." Kendrick shrugged. "How about I drop back in an hour and a half from now?"

"Your order should be ready by then." Mr. Jigger confirmed.

Kendrick gave a tilt of his head in farewell, before exciting the shop. With an hour and a half to kill, he headed to the Leaky Cauldron to get a drink. Upon entering the familiar pub, he crossed over to the worn bar and sat down on one of the rickety stools.

"What will it be this evening?" Tom asked expectantly.

"A Hippogriff's Claw," Kendrick ordered, extracting his purse from the pouch on his belt and counting out 7 sickles and 18 knuts.

Tom scooped the coins off the bar and set about making his drink. Kendrick replaced his purse and glanced around the near empty pub. For a Friday night, the place was awfully quiet.

"Most of the young crowd is up at the Potters," Tom commented, upon setting down a gray concoction in front of Kendrick. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom are having their big birthday bash tonight."

"Good for them," Kendrick grunted, before swiping a mouthful of his drink. He didn't need to be reminded of the night's events – of what could have been, if Voldemort hadn't murdered any hope he had at having a decent future near 17 years ago. He had denied his invitation to the Potter/Longbottom Birthday Bash days ago for the exact reason that he didn't want that scene flaunted in his face.

"You came in earlier for lunch, didn't you?" Tom inquired, interrupting Kendrick's train of thought.

"Yeah, I did," Kendrick confirmed, taking another sip of his drink.

"The name's Tom." Tom offered his hand.

"Kendrick," Kendrick said, shaking Tom's hand.

"Are you from around here?" Tom asked. "I don't recognize you, if you are."

"I just haven't gotten out much." Kendrick shrugged.

Tom appeared ready to ask him something else, but a man and a woman from the other end of the bar called for refills.

Kendrick silently thanked the couple and sipped at his drink, enjoying the burn of alcohol down his throat. Free of distraction, he took to studying his fellow patrons out of the corner of his eye. There was a group of elderly witches in the corner booth having dinner, two cloaked figures sitting in a shadowed booth off to the left, a single witch drinking tea and reading a magazine halfway up the bar, and then there was the couple sitting at the end of the bar opposite of him. He was pleased to note that the couple had drawn Tom into conversation – distracting the man from coming back and talking to him. He had never liked talking about himself, let alone doing so with a complete stranger.

Kendrick was about halfway through his drink, when the back door of the pub opened and a black robed figure walked in. Snape's black eyes swept over the establishment, taking in the few customers, before he crossed over to the bar and sat a few seat down from Kendrick. Kendrick set his eyes on his drink and purposefully avoided looking at the man. His feelings in regards to Snape over the last few months had been messed up at the best of times and having an alive Snape sitting next to him wasn't going to help him figure things out. He just couldn't wrap his head around Snape's actions in regards to him. The man had tormented him at any given opportunity and had hated him long before he had ever set eyes on him. Yet, he had protected him with his life and had saved him from certain death more times than he was probably aware of.

"Tea, black." Kendrick heard Snape order.

After serving Snape his drink, Kendrick heard Tom hold a brief and very quite conversation with Snape. He couldn't quite make out the words, but he sensed that Snape had asked Tom about something and Tom didn't have the answer that Snape was hoping for. With a curt dismissal from Snape, Tom went back to the other end of the bar to chat up the couple sitting there.

Kendrick quickly drank the rest of his drink, pretending not to notice Snape's subtle scrutiny. As he consumed the last few drops of alcohol in his glass, he got up to leave. He still had an hour's wait, but he didn't fancy spending the next hour with Snape.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Evans," Snape spoke quietly without so much as glancing in Kendrick's direction.

Kendrick faltered in his step for a brief moment, but then continued on as if he hadn't heard Snape's comment. He re-entered Diagon Alley and wandered his way through the small crowd of evening shoppers. As he passed by Quality Quidditch Supplies, he debated on going in and checking out the new Firebolt Flash. However, he knew that if he went in, he'd come out with one of the sleek broom, which wasn't something he had planned on buying and would definitely cost him several hundreds of shinny galleons. Sirius never had told him how much he paid for the Firebolt that he had gifted him, but he knew that the price was higher than the Nimbus 2000, which had sold for 450 galleons. The new Flash would most likely sell at an even greater price.

Deciding to check out the Quidditch shop another day, Kendrick continued up the alley. He passed by several shop that he had gone into earlier, as well as others that he had no interest in visiting. Eventually, he came to an out of the way junk shop that rested at the end of the alley, across from Ollivander's. The shop was crowded inside with various shelves and tables that displayed different odds and ends. He roamed through the thin isles, stopping to take a look at whatever caught his fancy.

A case that never seemed to open the same way; a ball of clay that would take the shape of whatever a person was thinking of, when they touched it; a set of candles that would change the color of the flame they emitted, were just a few of the simple items within the shop. There were also more complex items, like an enhanced old grandfather clock that told the next weeks weather and various enchanted mirrors that range from talking to being imitations of a scrying glass, as well as several shelves that were filled with used books. It was as he drew back into the far left corner of the shop that he came across a bag bin that contained an item he just couldn't pass up. He knew from Hagrid that mokeskin pouches were very rare, and he knew from personal experience that they were dead useful. He plucked up the mokeskin pouch that was about the same size as his coin purse and then continued on browsing.

Twenty minutes later, after looking over the rest of the shop, Kendrick headed up to the cash register with the mokeskin pouch, a silver pocket watch (that not only told the time, but the lunar and planetary positions as well), a deck of Exploding Snap Cards, a marble chess set, a desktop sneakoscope, and a foe-glass. He quickly paid for his purchases, forking over 56 galleons in total – most of it going towards the foe-glass and the mokeskin pouch.

Back out in the alley, he estimated that it was about time for him to go pick up his potions kit. As he once again passed Eeylop's Owl Emporium, he felt his heart go out for Hedwig. She was truly lost to him. She would have been sold a long time ago in this world. Just like the three previous times he had passed the animal shop, he couldn't even bring himself to think about replacing her, and it was no different now. Perhaps with a bit more time, he would be willing to buy a new owl, but not today.

Upon re-entering Slug and Jigger's and not seeing Mr. Jigger anywhere in sight, Kendrick headed up to the counter and rang the bell.

"One moment," Mr. Jigger called from the back.

Kendrick leaned against the counter to wait. It was only a minute later that Mr. Jigger emerged from the back storeroom carrying a wooden case.

"It seems you're right on time." Mr. Jigger grinned, as he set the case on the counter. "I just finished."

"Excellent. How much do I owe you?" Kendrick asked, withdrawing his purse from the pouch on his belt.

"85 galleons," Mr. Jigger said expectantly.

Kendrick counted out the price and picked the case off the counter.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Jigger." Kendrick said with a nod of farewell.

"You too," Mr. Jigger said distractedly, while placing his recently acquired stack of galleons into the register.

Kendrick excited the shop and headed for the Leaky Cauldron. In the back alley behind the pub, he apparated to the park near 12 Grimmauld Place, his day of shopping complete. He now had everything that he needed and even a few items that he didn't need.


	6. The Prophecy

**Chapter 5: The Prophecy**

Kendrick fidgeted nervously, as he leaned against one of the counters in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place and waited for his tea to steep. In a few short minutes, the Order of the Phoenix would be convening for one of their biweekly meetings. It wasn't that he was necessarily nervous about meeting and finally being officially included in the Order of the Phoenix per se. It was rather that he was worried about meeting certain individuals. Specifically speaking, certain individuals with the last name of Potter, as not only would James and Lily Potter be present, but so would his … counterpart … of this world, Harry Potter. He wasn't sure how he would handle seeing them and having to speak to them.

So far, he had been able to easily avoid the Potters, despite the Order of the Phoenix having convened for a grand total of three times since he had moved into Grimmauld Place two weeks ago. Dumbledore had been more interested in him coming to a decision about his future in this world, so that the old man could setup for the Ministry to be informed of his identity and background as soon as possible, than the man had been about having his attendance at those meetings. So, it really had been a simple matter of him locking himself in the Black Library and appearing to be deep in his research in order to be sure that the Potters wouldn't bother him at those times. However, now that the matter of his future and identity had been settled, Dumbledore had been most insistent that he attend the upcoming Order meeting – almost to the point of nearly demanding it. Despite his immediate refusal and his steadfast negative answer to Dumbledore's repeated behest that he be there and his many excuses surrounding the fact that he wasn't really sure he wanted to meet the Potters just yet, Dumbledore had made several valid points over his continuous protests that he couldn't ignore.

Given his copious experience with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, he was a highly valued asset and ally in the ongoing war with Voldemort. The fact that his experience consisted of conflict with a Voldemort and Death Eater force of another world was hardly a matter of importance. By comparison, this world's Voldemort was just as much a monster as his world's Voldemort. This world's Death Eaters were just as violent and ruthless as the ones in his world, taking sick pleasure in spilling innocent blood and needlessly ripping apart families. Just as it was in his world, the rising darkness aimed to destroy the current pillars of society that gave any semblance of rights to Muggles, Muggle-borns, and magical beings and to inflict so much fear into the people of Britain that they became malleable and complied easily to the Dark Lord's every command.

He may have landed in a different world, but the war and the way it was fought was the same. He really couldn't turn a blind eye and deaf ear to that fact and as Dumbledore had pointed out to him, his assistance in the Order could very well save lives, even if all he did was silently observe the meetings and later reported his opinions on what was brought up. Dumbledore had also pointed out to him that if he didn't want to acknowledge the Potters with more than what dictated a formal working relationship, he didn't have to. If he didn't want to participate in any battles for a while and desired to take a bit of a break from actually fighting and risking his life for a war that wasn't of his own creation, then it wasn't like anyone could force him to pick up his wand and fight the good fight. No one could make him do anything that he didn't actually want to do, but the information he had and the experience he had from his world were just too invaluable not to be put to good use.

He had ended up agreeing to Dumbledore's request once the old man's arguments were made, knowing that it was simply the right thing to do. If he could possibly save lives with the knowledge that he had gained from his old world, then he had to at least try. As it was, he had already provided the secret to winning the war in this world, when he shared his knowledge of Voldemort's horcruxes with Dumbledore. The locket and diadem had already been confiscated from their respective hiding places. The ring would soon be acquired as well. The diary, cup, and snake presented a bit more of a challenge due to their locations, but they were at least known and retrieving them was something they could work towards. Their side would only benefit further, if he applied the rest of his knowledge to the current situation with Voldemort. His personal problems really weren't all that important compared to the bigger picture and coming face to face with the Potter was something that he couldn't avoid forever.

Checking the clock above the fireplace, Kendrick saw that two full minutes had passed. He turned against the counter that he had been leaning on and grabbed a mug from the cupboard above it. He gingerly picked the cooling teapot up off the stove and poured himself a generous amount of tea. Just as he stirred a spoon of sugar into his drink, the fireplace behind him roared to life.

"Good evening, Kendrick," Dumbledore greeted, his voice sounding unusually pleased as Kendrick's name rolled off his tongue.

"Professor." Kendrick nodded back to the silver bearded man in greeting, while cupping his tea in his hands and turning to lean against the counter once again. Under the headmaster scrutiny, he brought the cup of tea to his lips.

"Remember, you have no obligations to anyone," Dumbledore reminded seriously, obviously picking up on Kendrick's lingering nervousness that just wouldn't seem to go away. "Your participation is as much or as lacking as you want it to be."

"You're different, you known, from … well … my headmaster," Kendrick couldn't resist commenting.

The thought had been subconsciously spinning through his head for several days now, and with every meeting that Kendrick had with the man, his Dumbledore and this Dumbledore seemed to grow farther apart in his mind's eye. Perhaps it was just circumstance that had caused his world's Dumbledore to act towards him as he had, and maybe he was just now seeing how the Albus Dumbledore of his world would have treated him, if he hadn't had a portion of Voldemort's soul attached to his forehead. Regardless of what the actual truth was, this Dumbledore did not treat him like an ignorant child that needed to be protected at all costs or like someone that needed to be controlled and monitored for fear of what would happen, if he wasn't. His freedom of choice had yet to be taken away from him once in the two weeks that he had been in this world, which was currently an outstanding record for all of his experience within the Wizarding World to date.

"I'll take that as a complement, I believe," Dumbledore responded idly, as he went about readying for the meeting.

"It was meant to be," Kendrick confirmed, but did not elaborate on his feelings of discord toward the Albus Dumbledore of his old world.

Only the briefest moment of silence passed between them following the exchange, before it was interrupted by the arrival of several people for the meeting. Out of the floo stepped Sirius and Dorcas Black, while numerous others began filing into the basement through the kitchen door. Kendrick paid little attention to those who had entered the kitchen at the same time as the two Blacks, as catching his first sight of Sirius with his wife was a bit strange and bittersweet for him. His Sirius had been so downtrodden after Azkaban that it was hard to believe that he would have ever looked at a woman with such adoration and love or that he would have ever seemed so genuinely happy just by the presence of a single person. It was hard to picture _his_ godfather as being the same man as the radiant Sirius in front of him, who had his arm wrapped around a very beautiful, black haired woman as he circulated throughout the room and greeted various people with familiarity. The sight only reinforced that though they may have been near identical at some point between the two worlds; this Sirius was most definitely not _his _Sirius and could never be the man that he had known.

The rapid flare of the floo, again, caught his attention and pulled his focus away from the two Backs. The tall, blond haired man and formidable, black haired woman were recognizable to him in seconds from a few pictures that he had seen of the original Order of the Phoenix in his world, but oddly enough, the dark haired youth who had flooed in with them wasn't anyone that he remembered ever seeing. Catching Alice Longbottom addressing the young man as Neville, caused him all sorts of puzzlement, and his mind began analyzing the obvious change from his world. The young man looked absolutely nothing like the Neville that he had known. His Neville had blond hair and was round faced like his mother. He was a bit on the chubby side and didn't have a strong aura of confidence, like the dark haired youth that he was now observing clearly exhibited. He could _strongly_ see Frank Longbottom in this version of Neville. If it weren't for this Neville's hair being dark like his mother's, he would have said that Neville was Frank Longbottom only in younger form. The change was odd and unexpected. He couldn't help but wonder at the reasoning for it.

As his eyes tracked the Longbottom trio across the room, he couldn't help but take note that there were now many redheads present. He nearly dropped his mug of tea, when Neville broke off from his parents and headed over to a group of the red heads. It wasn't so much that Ron didn't _not_ look like the Ron that he knew from his world that caused his surprise, as it was that this Ron was very clearly in top physical form and had an 'air of Oliver Wood about him' for lack of better words. He had never seen the red head look so self-assured about himself, not even in the aftermath of the war with all the reporters wanting their story.

Then there were the twins, who were standing a little to the side of Ron as they greeted Neville. Seeing the two as the dynamic duo once again was gut wrenching, and he couldn't help but sigh in relief at seeing that the twins appeared to be about the same as their counterparts had been before the duo had become a single act. He didn't know if he could have handled the twins being different in this world, as they had been such a constant in his life. Their joking manner had hardly ever faded. Even in battle, they had remained their high spirited selves. He couldn't help but grin, as he watched one of the twins slip something into Neville's pocket without the dark haired youth's notice. There was mischievous glint in both of their eyes that suggest that the gift would most definitely have a comedic effect later. The two hadn't changed a bit.

Before he could check around for the other Weasleys, the floo flared for a fourth time. The second he looked in its direction, he wished that he hadn't. James and Lily Potter moved to the side of the large brick fireplace, just as two red headed youths flooed in – one right after the other – right behind them. He wasn't sure if it was the first couple that had arrived or the second that caused him more inner turmoil and conflict. On one hand, James and Lily were exact replicas of how his parents would have looked at this point in his life. However, on the other, the girl on the auburn haired male's arm was a girl that he would have recognized anywhere. Despite the expensive robes and large amount of makeup she now wore, she still looked very much like the girl who would go flying or tree climbing on a whim in the middle of a rain storm and had never hesitate a single second when it came to roughhouse with her brothers. He knew that she didn't need the flashy robes or the paint to make her beautiful. Though, he thought, she most certainly looked beautiful with it all the same.

He couldn't stop the heavy sigh from escaping his lips, as he observed her. He had lost his chance with the girl in his world. All it would have taken was for him to pull her aside and tell her that he still loved her, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. For whatever reason, he just hadn't been able to bring himself to reach out to her. It had felt too much like he would be destroying her life, if he did. Even though the war had been won and he had vanquished Voldemort for good, his instincts had still screamed to leave her alone, that she was better off without him. He had listened and had kept his distance, and he had lost her. A few weeks before his forced departure from his word, she had begun dating Terry Boot and the two were very happy together. He didn't begrudge her a bit, when she had told him about her relationship with Terry and had mention not so subtly that she was through waiting and that she was done. The 'with you' she had not spoken, but he had gotten the message clear enough.

"Taken, mate, so don't even think about it," a voice Kendrick recognized all too well startled him out of his thoughts of the past.

"No worries," Kendrick murmured with complete seriousness to the intruder of his musings. He knew that the Ginny Weasley of this world wouldn't be his to have, just as she hadn't ever truly been his to have in his world. Rumors said that this Ginny was either already engaged or very close to becoming engaged. He wasn't about to disrupt the girl's happiness, especially when he didn't even actually belong in this world.

"You Kendrick Evans?" Nymphadora Tonks asked with interest, her eyes scanning over Kendrick as she leaned against the counter beside him.

"Depends on what you want," Kendrick said, turning to look at Tonks. He hadn't gotten to spend a lot of time with the version of her in his world, but he had always liked her well enough. She had made Remus happy at the very least. Sadly, in this world, the werewolf was MIA and had been since the ending of the last war. It was only the names of Potter and Black keeping Remus Lupin from being officially declared dead. Both James and Sirius were still searching for him, trying to find out what happen to their friend. It was sad, but he understood. Not too long ago, he would have done the very same for the Ron and Hermione of his world, if they had ever gone missing like this world's Remus had.

"Just curious to meet the berk crazy enough to chase a Defense Mastery." Tonks shrugged.

"Kendrick Evans, crazy berk," Kendrick said with a faintly amused grin and offered his hand to the metamorphmagus.

"Tonks, just Tonks," Tonks replied, as she shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Tonks." Kendrick turned back to his observations of the room. People were now getting settled, and he could easily pick out the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Percy, Kingsley, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Elphias Doge, Mungdungus Fletcher, Snape, McGonagall, and many other faces that he had a vague recognition of but didn't quite know their names. There were also several other people in attendance who were complete strangers to him in face and name.

"Let's find a seat," Tonks suggest and push off from the counter.

"No thanks, I'm good where I'm at," Kendrick dismissed.

Tonks gave him a funny look, before heading over to the table without him.

Another minute passed before everyone seemed to get settled, and Dumbledore call the group to attention.

"Good evening," Dumbledore greeted from where he stood at the head of the table. "We have much to discuss tonight, so let's get straight to it. As most of you probably remember, I told you that Kendrick Evans would be joining our ranks. This is he," Dumbledore said, as he gestured back to Kendrick. "Like young Ms. Weasley, his membership isn't an active role, at least not until he specifies it to be."

Kendrick gave a curt nod to the group, avoiding looking at anyone in particular.

"Now then, I'd like to get right into the reports," Dumbledore announced and nodded to a brown haired man that Kendrick didn't know. "Mr. Fuller, if you would start us off."

Whatever Kendrick had been expecting the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix to be like, nearly two straight hours of listening to various people give reports on seemingly inconsequential things was not it. The night seemed to wear on and on, as person after person was called on to report their progress over the last few days for whatever assignment Dumbledore had set them. Some were working on gathering information from informants, while others were attempting to recruit new member. There were also those who were going about and assisting families in preparing themselves and their homes for the worst. Quite a few people were working on research and analysis of the various Death Eaters known and unknown. After everyone else had given their accounts, Snape stood up to give the final report.

The entire room silenced and tensed, as they waited for what news the man would bring them.

"He has decided to pull back on doing open attacks and is now focusing on the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries in particular," Snape announced to the group, while looking truly worried by the news that he was delivering. Kendrick briefly saw the man's beady black eyes shift between James and Lily Potter, before flitting to the auburn haired youth sitting between Neville and Ron. For all appearances, it looked as if the man actually cared about all three persons and feared what might happen to them. "I fear that he has become aware, Albus. Though, I do not know how."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said gravely, sounding very old. As Snape sat back down, he asked, "Does anyone else have anything they'd like to add at this point?"

Several people shifted nervously in their seats, but did not speak up.

"Then we shall call it a night." Dumbledore sighed, still sounding very grim. "I request that the Potters and Longbottoms remain."

With the dismissal, Kendrick made to leave, as he did not want to be trapped in kitchen with the Potters and so few people. However, before he could reach the door and blend into the crowd that was quickly filing out of the room, a strong hand caught his arm and he felt a wand press into his ribs.

"Don't move," A familiar growl assaulted his ears.

Kendrick froze in his attempt to dislodge the hand's hold on him. He knew his Sirius wouldn't have ever cursed him, but he was more than aware that this Sirius very well would. He and this Sirius were far from even being friends. Nearly every moment that he had spent around the man had been tense and stifling. Despite all his instincts telling him to do otherwise – to escape, that he was in danger – he allowed Sirius to pull him away from the door and back into the kitchen, which was now mostly empty. A single look from Dumbledore told him to remain silent and allow Sirius's treatment for the time being, as to not draw attention from the others who had yet to leave and had not been asked to stay. As soon as the kitchen door shut behind a brown haired man named Garrett Abernathy and wards were erected over the room, Dumbledore's indifference to his predicament swiftly changed.

"Sirius, release him. _Now!_" Dumbledore ordered in a commanding tone that left no room for debate and showed his displeasure for Sirius's actions.

As soon as Sirius's grip loosened, Kendrick stepped away from the man with a jerk and turned a wary and angry glare on the dog animagus.

"You could have just asked for me to stay! There was no need to use excessive force," Kendrick hissed angrily. "What the hell is your problem anyway?"

"My problem? My problem!" Sirius reiterated in a dark, threatening tone. "My problem is that you show up and suddenly Voldemort has information that we've put a lot of time and expense into keeping secret. That's my problem!"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said warningly with pointed looks at the Longbottoms and an auburn haired youth, whose hair was just as messy as James's hair, whose eyes were slightly obscures by horn rimmed glasses, while being the same exact shade of green as Lily's eyes, and whose face was an evident blend of both Potters with a possibly stronger influence from James.

Kendrick could only conclude that the youth was his counterpart, and he was left wondering once again at the divergence from his world. His belief that the events surrounding the prophecy were the causes for the changes in this world from his world was looking more and more likely. The fact the Neville and Harry of this world – the two candidates of the prophecy – were both so different from himself and the Neville of his world just added near indisputable evidence to his belief, or so he thought. Though, he'd be the first one to admit that he wasn't an expert in the matter of multiple dimensions and what actually created them.

"I trust Kendrick." Dumbledore's voice drew Kendrick's attention away from the auburn haired Harry Potter and back to the old man. "He has more than sufficiently proved his loyalties to me. He is not the source of this leak."

Sirius scoffed in doubt.

"If I bloody well told Voldemort about the damn prophecy, he wouldn't be preparing to attack the Department of Mysteries." Kendrick growled at the man. "If I was the leak and if I did have loyalties to _him_, he'd already know what it said, who it pertained to, and would be currently gearing up to see to the destruction of both the Potter and Longbottom families! Pull your head out of your arse, Black! You of all people should know that a person's name doesn't define them!"

"Then how do you explain it?" Sirius demanded, getting into Kendrick's face. "We managed to keep the prophecy a secret for six years in the last war and six months in this one. You show up, and suddenly, he knows all about it."

"Considering the fact that Augustus Rookwood was never indicted for being a Death Eater and got off scot-free here, I'd start your _childish_ finger pointing with him," Kendrick jousted back, while not giving in and stepping away from Sirius.

"Rookwood!" Sirius shouted in disbelief. "Rookwood works for the Ministry! Like hell he'd pass Voldemort information on the prophecy!"

"His loyalty to the Ministry is a front!" Kendrick spat back. "He's a spy!"

"How do we know that you aren't the spy?" Sirius questioned snidely. "What proof do we have, _snake_?"

"Sirius! Kendrick! That is quite enough!" Dumbledore cut in with authority booming in his voice.

"Sirius, back off." James sighed heavily, when neither Sirius nor Kendrick moved away from each other. "Kendrick didn't take the prophecy to Voldemort, and if he says Rookwood is a spy, then Rookwood could very well be a spy. We don't have any proof to suggest one way or the other, but I trust that Kendrick at least remotely knows what he is talking about."

Kendrick wasn't the only one to look to James in surprise. Even Lily seemed a bit shocked by her husband telling Sirius off, while defending someone who was practically a stranger to them. Though, Sirius just looked more angered by the telling off than surprised by it.

"Step away from him, Sirius," James order more pointedly and for a second time. "We're all upset about this, but taking out your anger on Kendrick isn't going to help anything. He's an asset and an ally, not the enemy. He knows the prophecy. He knows its full meaning and can probably best tell us how to prevent Voldemort from getting his hands on it. So back off, Padfoot. I'd like to hear what he has to say."

"I don't trust him," Sirius stated openly, as he did as James asked.

"So you've said many times before," James acknowledged calmly, as if it were an old argument between them.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but what prophecy?" Harry demanded with accusatory eyes aimed at his father and godfather.

"And who the hell is he to know so much about it?" Frank tacked on with a nod directed at Kendrick and looking less than pleased with the situation.

"Kendrick came to us under circumstances not of his own making," Dumbledore answered promptly, before anyone else in the known about Kendrick's true origins could. "He is a dimensional traveler, and in his dimension, this war has already been fought and won with him, the Child of Prophecy, and their two close friends playing a very pivotal role in the whole matter. He knows the prophecy intimately, as he was very close to the child it spoke of and said child share it with him, after learning of the prophecy and being informed that Kendrick had also been one of the three original candidates in his world from my counterpart. Kendrick has seen the prophecy of his world through its entirety, which is more than what I myself can say about the prophecy of our world."

"You're joking!" Neville blurted out incredulously without thinking, as Dumbledore finished speaking. A scolding look from his mother quelled him. "I'm sorry, sir … but dimensional travel …?"

"If I hadn't experienced it myself, I wouldn't have believed it either," Kendrick said with a confirmatory nod to Neville.

Kendrick felt slightly miffed that Dumbledore had decided to divulge that he was a foreign entity to this world, but he recognized that there wasn't really any other way of explaining to the Longbottoms about his knowledge of things that he shouldn't know about or about the exchange that he just had with Sirius and Sirius with James without coming up with an extravagant lie that would eventually get them into some sort of trouble. His only comfort was that he knew the Longbottoms were loyal to Dumbledore and would keep his secret on the old man's orders.

"What about this prophecy that keeps getting brought up?" Harry asked the room at large, seeming to more easily accept Kendrick as a dimension traveler than the Longbottoms.

"The prophecy is exactly what I wished to discuss with you, your family, and the Longbottoms, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "James, Lily … Frank, Alice … I do not believe it wise to leave the boys uninformed, if we desire to prevent the prophecy from becoming active."

"I thought you said that it was a sure thing – that eventually it would have to come to pass no matter what?" Alice inquired worriedly with a bit of hope.

"As long as hindering circumstances do not arise," Dumbledore said with a flick of his eyes to Kendrick, "I have it on very good authority that the prophecy doesn't have to come to pass for Voldemort to actually be truly defeated. As long as neither boy is marked as his equal, the prophecy is meaningless and Voldemort can be killed by anyone."

"How can that be?" Lily asked desperately. "Mad-Eye hit him with the killing curse in '86, and he didn't die. If anyone can kill him, then how come he's still alive?"

"Though I had previously thought that it was the prophecy that had protected Voldemort from Alastor's curse, Kendrick has brought with him new information and has assured me that Voldemort's survival had nothing to do with the prophecy itself," Dumbledore informed.

"So it isn't definite?" Lily asked with optimism in her eyes, while looking to Kendrick for answers.

"As long as the beginning of the prophecy isn't activated, Neville and Harry remain free of it," Kendrick said a bit uncomfortably under her gaze. "When Voldemort marked the Child of Prophecy in my world, he was actually giving the Child the key to his own demise. I already know the key, so that means no one actually needs to be marked for us to know what needs to be done to bring about Voldemort's defeat."

"What about the power it spoke of?" Frank questioned uncertainly.

"Love, the power was love in my world," Kendrick answered sadly. "To know about the prophecy and understand what is required of you to fulfill it fully and to care enough about the world and those in it to willingly walk to your own death is no small act of love. The love of a mother so deeply ingrained into her child from the sacrifice of her own life in hopes of saving her son was the beginning of my world's prophecy, and the willing sacrifice of a young man for the world that he had barely lived in for a few short years, but loved enough to give his life for, was the ended of it."

Mentally, Kendrick scowled angrily at the explanation. The Dumbledore of his world had said that the power was love and had manipulated things so that he would end up making the ultimate sacrifice without question, but after speaking with this world's Dumbledore about the prophecy, he knew very well that the power could have been something else, could have been anything that Voldemort lacked in. It had only been the circumstance created by the actions of the Voldemort and Dumbledore of his world that had evolved the prophecy to turn out as it had. Though, whether he liked it or not, he would have had to allow Voldemort to kill him in order to destroy the last horcrux. However, that didn't mean that he had to just accept the methods that his world's Dumbledore had used in order to ensure his compliance on the matter.

"So someone must die in order for Voldemort to be defeated …?" Alice asked uncomfortably, breaking Kendrick out of his progressively darkening thoughts.

"Not if the prophecy isn't activated." Kendrick shook his head. "The Child of Prophecy in my world had to die in the end due to the circumstance created, when Voldemort marked him as his equal. If we stop those circumstances from arising, then no one would need to give their life in order to bring about Voldemort permanent demise."

Kendrick felt a bit guilty about lying about his death, especially with the sadness James, Lily, and Sirius showed at hearing the news, but the 'Harry Potter' of his world had needed to be killed in order for his past as Evan Riddle to work properly. He had depicted Evan's relationship with Harry to be too close for there to have been any other possible outcome for the Harry Potter of his world, as it stood to reason that as long as Harry was still alive, Evan wouldn't have had a strong enough desire to leave his world for the runes that had transported him across dimensions to activate. On top of that, it was only by special circumstances that he had actually survived the Killing Curse for a second time. Without Voldemort taking his blood for his resurrection, he would have died in the forest that day and his death would have been necessary to bring about Voldemort's ultimate downfall.

"What are these circumstances?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking like he was quite confused and a bit scared.

"I really don't think you're going to have to worry about them," Kendrick said seriously.

To Kendrick's knowledge and the knowledge of this world's Dumbledore, Voldemort had already used Nagini for his last horcrux. Snape had reported that her behavior was quite strange for a snake and that Voldemort seemed to be able to control her without even speaking to her. If Voldemort truly had made Nagini into his last horcrux, as he thought that Voldemort most likely had, Voldemort wouldn't be attempting to make any more horcruxes, no matter how significant the death would be. Therefore, the probability of the prophecy coming to pass in this world as it had in his world was very small. Though, it was still a possibility that couldn't be fully dismissed.

"Kendrick is not saying that you do not need to worry about the prophecy, just that he does not believe that you need to worry about the circumstance that had arisen in his world surrounding his prophecy," Dumbledore said warningly, when the Longbottoms, Potters, and Sirius looked relieved and very hopeful. "There is no telling what _could_ happen in regards to our prophecy. We can understand Kendrick's experience with the prophecy of his world and learn from it, but our prophecy might result in something wholly different. The best course of action for us to follow right now is to prevent our prophecy from even being activated – and Kendrick, it does stand to reason that you may once again be a candidate in this world."

"What!" Kendrick demanded, whipping around to look at Dumbledore in alarm. The old man had not mentioned the possibility, when they spoke on the prophecy the day after his release from the Hogwarts Hospital Wing nearly two weeks ago. "No! He's not _my_ bloody Dark Lord!"

"Magic of this kind tends not to recognize the physical," Dumbledore said meaningfully. "Your parents defied Voldemort three times. You were born at the end of July in 1980. Whether magic will distinguish between your world and our world is yet to be seen. I only bring this up to caution you to be careful as well, as you yourself could possibly activate our prophecy."

"Are the prophecies different?" Alice asked curiously.

"Alas, they say the same thing, but words can be interpreted in many different ways and have many different meanings." Dumbledore sighed.

"Well … what does it say?" Neville asked almost reluctantly.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …_" Kendrick spoke from memory. The chilling words had not left him once since the first time that he had heard them. "In my world the line '_either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_' was the foretelling of the end. The Child of Prophecy ultimately needed to die by Voldemort's hand, and though Voldemort was not directly killed by the Child of Prophecy, it was the Child of Prophecy's sacrifice that ultimately enabled the Dark Lord's death. During the years that they were both alive, they didn't truly get to live their lives the way desired to. For them, it was always about just trying to find some way to continue surviving or trying to bring about their enemy's end. However, that is only one interpretation of that particular line."

"For example, it could mean that a final confrontation will come about between the two, where only one will walk away alive," Dumbledore supplied, trying to lift the morose and now seemingly hopeless spirits of the Longbottoms, Potters and Sirius. "In that case either the Child of the Prophecy or the Dark Lord could be victorious."

"It could also mean that before either side can claim victory in the war, the Child of Prophecy or the Dark lord would need to die by means orchestrated by their enemy," Kendrick said with a thoughtful look. "It could possibly be opened ended to that extent. The power it referred to could be that the Child of Prophecy possesses an uncanny ability to pull together a large force and the ability to command that force to an easy victory. From my experience, Voldemort severely lacks in that respect. His plans are sloppy and fail more often than not. It is only when he uses sheer numbers that he actually has any modicum of success. He simply doesn't have the level of loyalty from his followers or the mind for tactics that are necessary to take a quick victory."

"True," Dumbledore acknowledged with his own contemplative look. "There are many things that the prophecy could end up to referring to here."

"How can we possibly stop it, if we don't know what we are even looking for?" Sirius asked with frustration.

"The line '_the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal_' is very specific," Dumbledore said decisively. "Voldemort must mark one of the boys in a way that will show them as his equal. I do not believe an insignificant scratch that leaves no deeper meaning between Voldemort and the one to receive the scratch will suffice. It would have to be something that connects them. I'm sure that we will know what we are looking for, when it happens. Though, I sincerely hope that we will never have to find out. For now, the best way to prevent the prophecy is to keep Voldemort from actually hearing it and to keep Voldemort from getting anywhere near the boys."

"If you think –" Kendrick began in an angry growl. There was no way in hell that he was going to put up with being under the Order of the Phoenix's lock and key again.

"I think nothing, Kendrick," Dumbledore defended at once. "I will not tell you what you can and cannot do or how you should live your life, but I do ask that you keep in mind what is at stake. You activate the prophecy and it falls to you to resolve it. You should understand the burden that you'll be taking on better than anyone else in this room. I was only stating that keeping Voldemort away from you three would be our best course of action. I spoke nothing of secreting you away and not allowing you to live your lives."

"I apologize, sir. My assumptions were wrong, and I must again remind myself that this is not my world," Kendrick apologized, while feeling like a prat. How many times was it going to take for this Dumbledore to show him that he was not the same Dumbledore that he had know from his world, before he stopped feeling the need to jump down the old man's throat for the smallest things that only _might_ suggest that this Dumbledore was trying to control or manipulate him? He didn't know.

"If Rookwood is a spy, then can't he just retrieve the prophecy for Voldemort?" James asked, bring them back on task.

"No, only the subjects of a prophecy may remove a prophecy from its place within the Hall of Prophecy," Dumbledore denied. "As of right now, Voldemort is the only one able to remove the prophecy, as the second subject remains unclear. I was thinking that we or the Aurors could set up a guard to watch over the Department of Mysteries, but I will have to talk to Cornelius to see what he wishes to do. If he doesn't want to spread his resources too thin, I believe several in the Order would be willing to pick up the slack. Though, while I talk to him, I will bring up Mr. Rookwood's questionable loyalties."

"Sir, do you think it would still be safe for us to go into Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade?" Neville asked, while indicating to himself and Harry.

"Voldemort does not yet have the prophecy. So for now, I would say that it would be safe enough," Dumbledore consented. "_If_ there is an attack, however, I suggest heading home immediately rather than risking a confrontation with Voldemort."

"Do you think we should take up the Fidelius?" Lily asked nervously.

"I would hold off, as it might draw unwanted attention," Dumbledore denied.

"What if we gave some other excuse?" Lily asked desperately. "If people begin noticing, we could tell them that with our reputation in the last war, we weren't about to take any chances."

"The fact that your eldest son was born at the end of July will not go unmissed," Dumbledore stressed meaningfully. "It could be very detrimental for you to go into hiding now, as we do not know when or if Voldemort will attain the prophecy. However, the second that he does hear it, he will know at once that Harry is a candidate, if you take such obvious action now."

"Lily, Albus is right," James said, as he placed an arm around his wife to comfort her. "He could discover the prophecy while Harry is out and put two and two together. We'd have no warning."

"If you are so concern," Dumbledore said, looking at both the Longbottoms and Potters, "this house is under the Fidelius. Your home addresses would still be public knowledge and no one would know that you've gone into hiding under the charm should you stay here."

"Don't look at me," Sirius said holding up his hands, as both sets of parents looked to him. "I donated this house to the cause. You're more than welcome to intrude all you like."

"Kendrick?" Lily asked uncertainty.

"It's not my place to say one way or the other," Kendrick spoke detachedly, while mentally freaking out at the prospect. He liked distance. Distance was a very good thing to have between him and the Potters of this world. He had been able to handle being around them for the last two or so hours, but that was only do to the business nature of the conversation. Having them, all of them, living in the same house as him … he wasn't sure how he would sustain. It would be like watching a life that he should have had, but didn't get.

"It's something that we'll have to discuss," James said decisively without making an official commitment.

"Same here." Frank nodded in agreement, while sharing a look with Alice.

"Well, I'm staying," Neville said automatically in response to his father's decision, earning the attention of everyone in the room. "Voldemort might not know about the prophecy yet, but if he attacks by chance and manages to mark me, then the prophecy becomes activated. For the good of everyone, I should just stay here. I know that I wouldn't be able to leave my family behind in a fight, so it's best that I'm not there to begin with."

"I should stay as well," Harry cut in decisively, while running a hand through his auburn mop and looking stressed. "Nev's right. We activate the prophecy, we risk losing this war for everybody. At least right now, someone older and with more experience can deal with him. It's best for everyone, if we stay somewhere where he can't even get to us by chance."

"That is very responsible of you boys," Dumbledore said, sounding pleased. "However, do not let this prophecy rule your lives. Be cautious, yes, but do not make every decision based upon it."

Both Harry and Neville gave nods of understanding.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled in satisfaction. "Now, I believe it has grown quite late. I think we should all head off to bed. Anything more on the subject can be discussed at a later time."

"Do you still need to talk me, sir?" Kendrick asked, as everyone else began getting up.

"Is there something else that you feel needs to be talked about?" Dumbledore questioned in return.

Kendrick shook his head.

"Then I suppose that we do not need to talk," Dumbledore reasoned and gave a subtle wave of his hand in dismissal.

Kendrick nodded in return and then crossed the kitchen back over to the stove. He cleaned out the teapot of his remaining tea from earlier and set fresh water to be heated, while waiting for everyone over thirty to leave and for Neville and Harry to figure out their own sleeping arrangements. The sooner that everyone dispersed and his tea steeped, the sooner he could retire to the Black Library and settle in for the night. Though the hour was late, he had quite a bit of studying that he needed to do on Ancient Runes before he could even consider going to bed. His plans for the coming year consisted of taking his OWLs by Christmas and his NEWTs by next spring. His WASP work would have to fit in somewhere in between. He would then have the entire last year of his schooling to work on his theses for each of his chosen fields.

Though he was now without Hermione for academic help, Kendrick thought that his plan was respectable enough, and he had spent most of the day before going through his books and making himself a schedule to follow. It wasn't color-coded or anything special, but it would work to get him up to scratch for his OWLs and NEWTs. The only OWLs that he was worried about was Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, as he hadn't taken a single class of either subject in his entire life. However, he figured that he could always hold off on taking his Ancient Runes and Arithmancy OWLs until spring and then try to take his NEWTs in the subjects after the next summer or during the following winter.

"Kendrick, may we speak to you for a minute?" a slightly familiar, male voice drew Kendrick away from his thoughts concerning the remainder of his night and what the next two year would hold for him.

Kendrick stopped impatiently tapping his finger on the counter, having not even known when he started, and turned to look at James and Lily Potter, who had approached him while he was distracted. Glancing around the rest of the room, he came to the uncomfortable realization that everyone else had already buggered off. With a small amount of reluctance, he nodded his consent.

"We just wanted to say that we're sorry about Sirius," James said, looking truly apologetic about his friend's behavior. "He's impulsive and always has been. He'll probably apologize to you himself in a day or so after thinking about it, but I just felt you deserved an apology now."

"Sirius is Sirius." Kendrick shrugged as uncaringly as he could manage. "Not even in my world, after having spent twelve years in Azkaban, did Sirius really grow up and stop acting rashly. It's who he is, I suppose."

"He'll come around, Kendrick," Lily promised. "He's just a stubborn mutt, who takes a while to trust a new face. That's all."

Kendrick couldn't help but smile at her comment. It was filled with affection and annoyance, like she was speaking of someone who she considered a brother – which, he realized, she probably did think of Sirius in such a way.

"Well, have a good night, Kendrick. It really is getting late, so we probably should head out." James said resignedly, while looking like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.

"Goodnight, sir." Kendrick nodded.

"James, Kendrick. Please call me James," James requested seriously.

"And call me Lily," Lily spoke kindly.

"If you insist," Kendrick consented, as he turned back to the stove and quickly snatched the teapot off the burner, before it could actually begin boiling.

"We insist." Lily affirmed.

Kendrick looked to her and gave her a brief nod of understanding. He then turned back to the teapot and added some tea leaves to the hot water.

"Well, goodnight." Lily sighed.

"Goodnight," Kendrick said simply and set the teapot aside. He gave a polite bow of his head to the couple and watched as they turned away from him and headed over to the floo.

Once they were gone in a flash of emerald fire, Kendrick began mentally going over the rune translations that he had been studying earlier in afternoon and settled back against the counter to wait for his tea to steep.


	7. Unwittingly

**Chapter 6: Unwittingly**

Kendrick yawned tiredly and scrubbed at his face with his hands, as his brained tried to come to grips with waking up. He wasn't quite sure when he dozed off, but he was certain that it was nowhere close to being time for him to get up. He groaned and tossed the heavy book spread open on his lap onto the coffee table that sat not far from the couch that he was sprawled out on, before sitting up fully and rubbing his sore neck. Looking around for the source that woke him, he saw that the only light now permitting the room was from the few candles that he had lit earlier in the evening. They were burned clear down to their stubs, suggesting that he'd been asleep for a few hours.

"The funny thing about time, Kendrick," the voice of Albus Dumbledore drifted from the other side of the room, causing Kendrick to start and look in his direction, "is that it becomes lost to us, when we decide to pretend that the world around us is of no significance."

"Sir?" Kendrick asked, focusing his eyes past the faint glow of the candles surrounding his work area and to the darker recesses of the room shadowed by bookcases and plush armchairs. He found his target standing in the door frame to the library.

"Imagine my surprise upon looking at my pocket watch minutes ago and confirming that it was indeed Wednesday, the 12th of August and that the time was indeed midnight, only to look around my surroundings once again and confirm that you were nowhere to be found." Dumbledore stepped through the shadows and into the light of the candles. His aged face showing no emotion in particular and his usually lively eyes were missing their custom sparkle.

"Sorry, sir. I just lost track of the time," Kendrick quickly apologized, as he sat forward, resting his elbows against his knees and running his hands through his disheveled hair in frustration.

"I'm very aware of all the time you've lost track of, Kendrick," Dumbledore said gravely, as he conjured himself a chair and sat down opposite Kendrick. "The fact that you've actually shown up for the last few Order meetings is an impressive feat in and of itself."

Kendrick let his eyes drops from the old wizard and stared at the floor beneath his feet. He knew where their conversation was headed, and it wasn't something that he particularly wanted to talk about. He mentally cursed himself for not only losing track of the time, but for losing track of what day it was as well. He had been certain that he had another day, before he was supposed to meet up with Dumbledore to take care of the Peverell Ring. The last time he checked it was Monday the 10th. How he missed an entire day, he did not know, but more and more often as of late his days seemed to blend together without his notice. His detached inattentiveness to the world was exactly what Dumbledore was referring to. Again, he mentally cursed himself. If he had kept up with what day it was, Dumbledore probably would have left him be and they wouldn't be having this conversation.

"How long is this going to continue?" Dumbledore asked rather bluntly, causing Kendrick to glance back up at him with a start.

"I don't know, sir," Kendrick answered quietly, while once again focusing on the wood grains in the floor. "I – Before, in my world – I –"

Kendrick broke off, shaking his head. There was nothing he could say. Since the ending of the war in his world, something had been eating at him, picking away one piece of him at a time. He had thrown himself into his Auror work back in his world, chasing it away. Now in this new world, he had hoped that with seeing everyone alive and well and with knowing that he had a fresh start that it would go away, whatever it was. However, it was the exact opposite. He was surrounded by people who looked like those he knew. Sure, some of their characteristics were the same, but every person in this world had something about them that reminded him that they were not the friends and acquaintances that he had known from his world. It was difficult to say whether he found it to be a good thing or not.

He just felt like everything was utterly messed up. He didn't know what to think or say, or even how to act. Between his sufferance in his world and finding himself suddenly thrown into a world of which he did not belong, he felt the weight of it all pressing down on him in a suffocating and almost physically ailing manner. His only relief was the solitude and familiarity that the Black Library offered him. He found drowning himself in text filled pages worked just as effectively as immersing himself in his Auror training back in his world to drive away whatever it was that was trying to consume him.

"Have you considered, perhaps, that actually experiencing this world and the people in it could possibly be more helpful to you than spending all your time closed off and by yourself?" Dumbledore questioned, after realizing that Kendrick wasn't about to speak further on the subject. He paused for a moment to let his words sink into the unresponsive youth, before continuing. "I will not pretend that I know the difficulties of your situation, Kendrick, but I do know that the human heart heals with human connection. I also know that a lonely road can turn even the most honorable of men down a path that is long and dark, leading them to do many thing they regret out of desperation to find some sort of release."

"It's difficult, sir," Kendrick said, shutting his eyes to the words and the memories that came with them.

He understood very well what Dumbledore was talking about. His use of the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix and his use of the Imperious Curse on Travers and Bogrod were both acts of desperation and were both acts taken after an extend period time of him feeling so utterly alone and isolated in his fight and his beliefs. His attack against Bellatrix was his attempt to find a release for his anger and grief. His cursing of Travers was the easiest way to release some of rapidly rising stress in an already overly stressed situation. His childhood and years at Hogwarts only lent further credence to the truth of Dumbledore's words. He had lashed out many times due to the seclusion that he had been forced to suffer, whether it had been brought on by the Dursley or his famed title in the Wizarding World. Though, he would say that his fifth year had been the worst. That year, he had allowed his anger and frustration at feeling so helpless to rule his actions completely.

"Just think on it, Kendrick," Dumbledore said softly, and after a brief pause, he got up and vanished his chair. "I suppose we shall arrange our planned activities for tomorrow night, my boy. Please do show up, when expected."

"I'm not your boy," Kendrick bit out in returned without so much as moving an inch or looking up.

"Understood," Dumbledore acknowledge and with a whirl of his moon spotted robes, he strode out of the shadowed room.

Hours later, after the sun had actually risen and had had a few hours to blanket the earth with its warmth, Kendrick awoke back in his own room – having retreated to his own bed to sleep off the ache in his neck and the twisting in his stomach that Dumbledore's words had caused him. He lay staring at the ceiling from his place between his rumpled sheets, studying the wood grains of the floorboards above him and focusing his mind towards his Occlumency. While repeated practice of clearing his mind of all thought and emotion was all well and good, he desperately needed to find an instructor to finish his training on the subject, as his ability to block a Legilimens's attack was weak and his current level of mental discipline provided him very little aid in controlling his emotions. Back in his world, a man by the name of Jackson Doweling had overseen and monitored his progress in the Mind Art. Mastering Occlumency was a skill that was in no way required by the Aurors, but after his experience with Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Snape, he had found it to be a skill that he desperately wanted to master and had convince Kingsley to allow him to seek out a Master in the nearly banned art. As it would seem, his fears of one day meeting another powerful Legilimens were not completely unfounded, as three of the most skill Legilimens in Britain's modern history were very much alive in this world.

After taking the time to clear his head of all conflicting emotions, Kendrick forced himself to get up and face the day. He yawned and stretched, as he made his way out of his room and to the bathroom. He locked the door behind and gave another stretch and yawn, before going about his business. A quick shower later, and he was head back to his room with a towel wrapped around his waist and his pajamas in hand. As he reached his door, the loud girlish shriek of surprise caused him pause. He turned his head in time to catch whips of long black and blond hair and two blushing faces rushing back down the stairs off the landing and out of sight. Kendrick shook his head in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Lyra Black and Caitlyn Longbottom were the least of his worries, but with their mimicking of Ginny from his second year, it was a tad frustrating to live in the same house as the two giggling girls. Though, it was no worse than dealing with the two Percy wannabes, Joseph Longbottom and Joshua Potter, or with the two hellions, Aries Black and Chris Potter.

It was rather odd. Dumbledore made one small suggestion that the Longbottom and Potter families seek safe haven at Grimmauld Place, and in return, Grimmauld Place was now occupied by the Blacks, Longbottoms, Potters, and Ron and Ginny Weasley. If he didn't think it such a pointless endeavor, since there were only a few short weeks before term would begin at Hogwarts, and if he didn't find the Black Library such an enticing conglomeration of books, he might have packed his trunk a week ago and rented out a room somewhere. As it was, the Black Library was proving to be too valuable of resource to his current situation. There were books among books of information in regards to Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Warding, as Orion Black was particularly paranoid and a little bit more than obsessed about making sure that his home would never be breached by unwanted foes. So, not even the constant questions of little Nicholas Potter or the threatening looks that he continually received from Sirius could drive him out of the house.

Kendrick shook himself from his thoughts, as he entered his room. As he crossed over to the ancient, polished oak wardrobe currently housing his cleaned and pressed clothes, he had to admit that the addition of the Blacks, Longbottoms, and Potters hadn't come without benefits. Where before Kreacher was the only elf in residence, there were now three more elves servicing the home and the little buggers had gotten Grimmauld Place into top shape in a little less than a day. Considering that it had taken him, Hermione, and the Weasleys weeks to do the same job, he was willing to over look the fact that he had been banned by the elves from doing pretty much anything for himself. Kreacher, while being more civil after he explained to the old elf why exactly it was that he needed to take Master Regulus' locket to Dumbledore, had been willing to let him cook his own breakfast every once in a while. However, the three young elves that had moved in with the Blacks, Longbottoms, and Potters were less than please to catch him in the kitchen or attempting to do his own laundry. He had seriously thought that he was in danger of a premature death, when the Potter elf had caught him cleaning his own room.

Yes, the Black Library was his sanctuary and no matter what Dumbledore said, he wasn't about to give it up.

After dressing in a set of trousers and a tunic shirt, Kendrick slipped his feet into a pair of house shoes, tied his hair back with an elastic, and placed his wand in the specifically designed pocket on his right thigh. That was one of the many bonuses of working closely with Madam Malkin on his wardrobe and the single thing that made the four hours' worth of torture at her hands and sewing needles completely worth it. His clothing was riddled with pockets designed for various items, all seemingly unnoticeable and appearing to be just part of his clothing's design. Dressed and ready for the day, Kendrick decided there was no use putting off the inevitable and left the asylum of his room to head to the kitchen.

Kendrick cautiously stepped out onto the landing and slowly made his way over to the stairs that would take him to the lower floors. He looked warily at the steps. Pulling out his wand and doing several detection spells that he learned in the Aurors, he found nothing suspicious about this particular set of stairs. He continued this practice all the way down from the third floor of the house to the basement kitchen. On the grand staircase in the entrance hall, he had found magic of a suspect nature and made sure to go around it. Pranks and all were fun, but he didn't have any particular interest in being the victim. The two hellions, as he had been informed by two very proud fathers, gave the marauders a run for their money and had McGonagall on the verge of pulling her hair out by the end of every school year.

"Cheater!" A young voice yelled from over the banister on the fourth floor.

"You'll just have to try hard, Potter!" Kendrick yelled up to the indignant, red head, finding it very easy to channel Snape in regards to the boy.

"We know where you sleep!" The visage of Aries Black called down to him, as the dark haired youth popped his head out beside Chris.

"I'll commend you, if you can even get into my room!" Kendrick shot back unconcernedly, as he opened the door leading to the basement and left the two pranksters to wait for their next possible victim.

Kendrick shook his head, as he thought about the Potter children. Harrison Potter, going by Harry more often than not, was a near perfect blend of James and Lily physically and personality wise. His counterpart was known for being a bit of a joker and was a potions prodigy. He had an arranged apprenticeship with Snape that would overlap his WASP years. The auburn haired teen hoped to gain Journeyman Status by the time he graduated and Master Status a few years after that. Surprisingly, though Harry claimed to be a decent flier, he had little interest in actually playing Quidditch. However, he was more than content to discuss the game hours on end and watch a match when the opportunity presented itself.

Then there was Dorea Potter, who preferred to go by Rose. She had jet black hair like her father, but it was tame like her mother's. She was gifted with her mother's eyesight, while being gifted with her father's eyes. She was a fairly intelligent girl, but when she and Ginny got talking, it was like listening to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil gossiped on about one thing or another. The girl was far too into makeup, clothes, boys, and books to care about pranks or Quidditch or anything else of that nature. Time and time again she had rolled her eyes at the dinner table, as the boys brought up the 'stupid' game again. Overall, he found her to be quite pleasant. That is, if she kept away from Ginny and Quidditch wasn't mentioned.

Following Dorea was Joshua Potter. Joshua, never just Josh, was James Potter in miniature, or at least physically. He had the messy black hair, hazel eyes, glasses, and all. However, his intellect was through the roof and he was overly fond of rules, or at least certain rules – the ones _he_ elected to follow and believe worthy of being followed. Kendrick had never known that there were so many rules pertaining to one's behavior and social etiquette, but apparently there was a rule for everything, from walking to talking to eating to drinking. Between Joshua Potter and Joseph Longbottom, Kendrick was quickly becoming well informed of just how 'civilized' people were supposed to act and how 'uncivilized' he was. On several occasions, if it weren't for the fact that neither youth had slicked back blond hair, he might have believed that he was speaking to two clones of Draco Malfoy. Though considering that Joshua was a _Slytherin_ and Joseph was a Ravenclaw, he could hardly be surprised.

After Joshua was Chris 'expect to be severely pranked if you dared call him Christopher' Potter. The boy was James Potter in every way, except physically. He had more of the Evan's features than Potter features, though he did inherit his father's eyes along with his father's eyesight. If one looked past the fact that he appeared to be made up of more Lily than James, they would run fearing for their lives and sanity. The boy was pure Marauder. Teamed up with Aries, who was Sirius' clone quite literally in every way, one never knew just what would happen to them, if they fell into one of the boys' prank. The little hellions had earned their name thoroughly, and Kendrick had come very close to killing both on several occasions. Luckily, Sirius showed mercy on the behest of James and warded the library and Kendrick's room against the two, so Kendrick could have a reprieve from being the boys' new target. Since the wards were erected by the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, the two pranksters had no hope of breaking through them.

Last in the Potter line up was Nicholas Potter, who told Kendrick to call him whatever he wanted 'cause everyone else does anyways'. Kendrick felt a bit sorry for kid. He was the youngest of the siblings, which meant that he had been Chris and Aries' test subject more often than not, had been the victim of Joshua's prattling (as Joshua had given up on reforming Chris years ago), had been Rose's real life doll when he was little, and there was such an age gap between him and Harry that he didn't get a whole lot of attention from his oldest brother. You'd think James and Lily would pay him a bit more mind with all that going on. However, it wasn't to be so. James was too busy trying to make sure that Joshua didn't turn into a Pure-Blood elitist, and Lily was too busy trying to make sure Chris didn't burn down the house. Harry, Rose, and Nicholas, as Kendrick had simply decided to call the kid, were often left to their own devices.

Out of all the new residents in the house, Nicholas had been the only one that he had actually talked to all that much over the last week or so. The boy reminded him a bit of himself. He even had messy black hair and green eyes, though he was fortunate not to need glasses. It hadn't taken more than an hour for Nicholas to figure out that the wards Sirius had erect over the entrance to the Black Library were specifically designed to keep Chris and Aries out. Self-preservation set in, and the boy had taken to the library as his own personal shelter from his brother and cousin's antics – which was how Kendrick began to get to know the kid, despite his attempt not to know any of them.

Nicholas had spent the last four days in the library with him. As he was busy with the Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Warding books and wasn't exactly up for entertaining the kid, Nicholas had decided to go ahead and get ahead for his first year of Hogwarts. The end result was that he had often found himself pausing in his research to answer Nicholas's questions pertaining to the magic that the first year would be learning in the upcoming year. When Nicholas got bored of his own studies, the boy would ask about what he was studying or go off on a tangent about some random thing or another. Kendrick found the boy's chattering to be a bit annoying and distracting, but he wasn't about to be the one to throw the poor kid to the wolves. Chris and Aries were spiteful little twerps about being banned from the library and were not at all pleased to have their newest and oldest targets out of their pranking reach. So Kendrick let the boy stay and listened to the kid with a half ear and answered the questions the boy asked him.

"Good morning, Kendrick," Lily Potter greeted, as Kendrick made his way into the kitchen and over to the table, pulling Kendrick out of his thoughts on the youngest Potter.

"Kendrick!" said Potter exclaimed excitedly. The eleven year old waved Kendrick over to the empty seat beside to him.

"Morning," Kendrick greeted, as he sat down. An elf came over and set a plate with one slice of toast in front of him.

"Yous is late for breakfast," the elf scowled in a clear reprimand. "Lunch is being ready in an hour, yous will eat then."

"Namp, be nice," Nicholas said with his own scowl aimed at the elf.

"Master said boy with beard doesn't need courtesies, if he no being showing elves courtesies," the elf said and then turned to go back to work.

Kendrick glared at his single slice of toast. Try and clean your own room just once and you're blacklisted by all the elves in the house and are snubbed for every little thing.

"Yatcha!" Lily called, upon seeing Kendrick's displeasure.

"No need, Lily," Kendrick dismissed, as the Potter elf pop into existence. "I'm going out …" Kendrick said, following a spur of the moment decision. "I'll get something at a café."

"Are you sure?" Lily asked uncertainly at the same time that her son asked, "Can I come?"

"No, absolutely not," Lily answered firmly and rounded her attention on Nicholas.

"But Kendrick wants me to come, don't you, Kendrick?" Nicholas asked with pleading eyes that practically screamed 'don't leave me here'.

If Kendrick hadn't known the viciousness of Chris and Aries pranks or how utterly dull one of Joshua's speeches could be, then he might have ignored the boy's pleading. However, as it was, he knew very well what kind of day Nicholas would be in for if he left the kid. He had spent enough time telling the others off for bugging him and Nicholas to know that Nicholas would be in for a rough day, even if he did hide out in the library. Joshua could still find him there, and Chris and Aries would surely get him the moment that he left their sanctuary. While he knew that it was all standard sibling rivalry, as he'd seen similar behavior with the Weasleys, he had also seen how the dynamics of the Weasley Family had affected the Ron in his world. He could see that Nicholas had a very similar disposition.

Harry was the cool older brother doing both parents proud and was the heir to the Potter bloodline. Rose was the girl, so naturally that made her special all on its own. Joshua was the smart child, scoring O's left and right. He was also a focus point for James, having been sorted into Slytherin. Chris was the loud jokester, who had Lily's attention most of the time, as she ran after him and reprimanded him for one thing or another. Nicholas was just Nicholas. He was the youngest and had yet to find his own special talent.

"Please!" Nicholas whispered desperately. "I'll be good."

"Alright, yeah, you can come," Kendrick agreed, if somewhat reluctantly.

"Kendrick, are you certain?" Lily asked, her tone wavering between surprise and anxiety. "What if –"

"Nothing will happen." Kendrick said positively. He didn't need Legilimency to know where the mother's thoughts had gone. "And if something does happen, I'll protect Nicholas at all cost and get us back here as soon as possible."

"I-I don't know," Lily said hesitantly, glancing between Kendrick and Nicholas with uncertainty.

"Don't you trust me?" Kendrick challenged, knowing that it would have the exact effect that he desired.

"Be back by supper time," Lily relented, before pinning Nicholas with a stern look. "Do not go wandering, young man. Stay with Kendrick."

"Yes, Mum!" Nicholas said excitedly, before hoping off his chair and running around the table to give his mum a hug.

"I'll see you at dinner, love," Lily said softly, as she kissed Nicholas's forehead goodbye.

"I'll take good care of him," Kendrick promised, when Lily's eyes settled upon him.

"You better," was all she said, before releasing Nicholas and letting him leave the kitchen with Kendrick.

A half hour later saw Kendrick and Nicholas dressed in passable Muggle attire and making their way up Diagon Alley towards Gringotts. Nicholas walked along side Kendrick with hurried steps, doing his best to keep up with the older youth. Upon entering Gringotts, Kendrick directed them over to one of the tellers. He promptly exchanged 5 galleons for 25 pounds. After pocketing the money, he and Nicholas left the bank.

"Are we really going into London?" Nicholas asked, practically bouncing with excitement, as he followed Kendrick back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"No, I only just exchanged wizard currency for Muggle currency for absolutely no reason." Kendrick said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Surely he hadn't been so naïve at the age of eleven.

"Awesome!" Nicholas exclaimed. "The others are going to be so jealous."

Kendrick shook his head and smiled despite himself.

Swiftly, Kendrick led Nicholas through the Leaky Cauldron and out into the Muggle World. He made sure that Nicholas stuck close to him, as they took off up the busy pavement. With it being summer and the sun shining, plenty of people were out and about, whether it be on foot or motor vehicle.

"Stop gawking," Kendrick said, as Nicholas took in the city around them with wide eyes.

"I've never been to London before." Nicholas jumped, as one of the cars behind them honked at a group pedestrians taking their sweet time to cross the street.

"Your mum has never taken you?" Kendrick asked surprised.

"No." Nicholas frowned. "We used to go visit Aunt Petunia in Surrey, but that was when I was really little. Mum prefers to keep our contact with the Muggle world at a minimum."

Kendrick kept his face a blank mask, as surprise rushed through him. He never would have thought that Lily Potter would give up her roots. Though, he could understand why Lily would cut ties with Petunia. Petunia was far from pleasant. Vernon was even worse.

"So where are we going?" Nicholas asked, interrupting Kendrick's thoughts.

"First to a café to get something to eat and then I was thinking about going to the park," Kendrick said, guiding Nicholas around a harassed man, who was looking for his wallet. "It'll be nice to get some fresh air and a bit of sun."

Nicholas grinned. "Dad will be happy."

"Oh?" Kendrick raised an inquiring eyebrow at the youth.

Nicholas bit his lip and looked away from Kendrick, looking as if he'd said something he probably shouldn't have.

As the two continued walking, crossing the street and heading up the other side, Kendrick said nothing more, letting a stilted silence develop between them.

"He's really worried about you," Nicholas blurted out, when he could no longer stand the silence, just as Kendrick knew the boy would. "Mum is too, but Dad is the most worried."

"Do you know what they're worried about?" Kendrick asked, scowling. He had known that James and Lily were somewhat concerned about him and kept a close eye on him, but he hadn't thought that they were well and truly worried, not the way that Nicholas made it sound.

"D-Dad thinks …" Nicholas took an unsteady breath, before whispering, "… Dad thinks you might try to hurt yourself."

Kendrick steps faltered and he found himself stopping altogether.

"You wouldn't, would you?" Nicholas asked, stopping as well and looking up at him with innocence only a child could possess. "Dad says that you're sad and that sad people sometimes do desperate things, but you wouldn't, right?"

"No." Kendrick forced the word out and a reassuring smile upon his face. He and James would be having a serious talk, when the man got off duty later that the evening. "Your dad doesn't need to worry and neither do you. I promise."

Nicholas smiled.

"Come on, this place looks like a good place to eat," Kendrick said, indicating to a café just up the street.

Putting aside his thought concerning what Nicholas had just revealed to him, Kendrick led Nicholas into the café. They were greeted by a barista and told to take a menu and sit wherever they liked. Nicholas pulled Kendrick over to a corner booth by the window, after Kendrick had grabbed two menus off the counter.

"If you don't know what something is, just ask," Kendrick said, as he handed Nicholas one of the menus. The boy's eyes widened at seeing all the selections available. Kendrick had to resist laughing at the kid, as he knew that the largest menu the boy had probably seen was the dinner menu at the Leaky Cauldron.

"What's Coke?" Nicholas asked, after giving the menu a once over. "Why don't they have pumpkin juice or butterbeer?"

Kendrick did laugh at the boy's disgruntled look. "Muggles don't drink pumpkin juice or butterbeer. Coke is pretty good though. It's sweet like pumpkin juice, yet bubbly like butterbeer."

Nicholas nodded and went back to looking over the menu. He seemed to be having a hard time deciding what it was that he wanted.

When the Nicholas finally decided on fish and chips and a Coke to drink, Kendrick placed their order with the barista, ordering a prawn and shrimp salad sandwich and a Coke for himself.

"How do those work?" Nicholas asked, pointing out the window at the traffic lights just up the road.

"I don't know exactly," Kendrick said honestly. "Muggles have their technology, and with it, they almost have their own sort of magic. Most Muggles couldn't tell you how they work either. Traffic lights are just an accepted part of their lives."

"Mum said the same about their picture boxes," Nicholas grumbled.

"Tellies," Kendrick corrected.

"Huh?" Nicholas looked to Kendrick with confusion.

"Their picture boxes, they're called tellies." Kendrick treated the boy to an amused grin.

Conversation of a similar nature carried the two through the meal, which satiated Kendrick's hunger and turned out to be excellent dining choice. Upon paying for their tab and bidding the barista a good afternoon, Kendrick led Nicholas to the nearest Underground. The wonder and curiosity that Nicholas expressed, as they boarded and rode the tube to Hyde Park reminded him of the awe and wonder that he had felt upon his first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid.

"What are we going to do at the park?" Nicholas asked eagerly, as they emerged from the mystery that was the London Underground and sunlight lit upon them once more.

"Don't know." Kendrick shrugged.

They walked in silence for only a short moment, before Nicholas pipe up smartly, "I know we can't play Quidditch with the Muggles and all, but Muggle's must have their own sport or something. Can we play that?"

"We don't have a ..." Kendrick trailed off and shook his head. "_– but there's no wood!_" he mocked an twelve year old Hermione under his breath. He was a wizard and a decently skilled one at that. He pulled Nicholas behind a tree and used their bodies to shield his quick conjuration from prying eyes.

As Kendrick and Nicholas continued into the actual park to find a nice grassy area to claim for themselves, Kendrick carried a regulation sized football under his right arm.

"All right, kid," Kendrick said, dropping the football and kicking it out into a patch of grass that was unoccupied. "One rule for now: absolutely no hands."

"Cool!" Nicholas yelled, as he raced after ball with an eleven year old's boundless energy and enthusiasm.

–

Kendrick and Nicholas returned to Grimmauld Place in high spirits, both sweaty, covered in grass stains, and sunburnt. The afternoon had been good – rejuvenating, in fact. Kendrick hadn't felt so carefree or had allowed himself to just enjoy the moment, like he had while playing football with Nicholas, in ages. For a brief few hours, he wasn't a wizard, he wasn't a dimension traveler, and there was no Voldemort, Death Eaters, or academics demanding his attention.

"There you are, Nicky!" the relieved voice of Harry Potter exclaimed, upon the auburn haired youth catching sight of Nicholas making his way up the the long, narrow entrance hall of the Ancestral House of Black with a football tucked under his left arm and Kendrick ambling up the hall at his side.

At stopping and looking up to the first floor banister, Kendrick saw that Ginny, Ron, and Neville were with his counterpart. All four did look considerably relieved to see the youngest Potter safe and unharmed.

"I was just out with Kendrick," Nicholas said with a scowl directed at his brother. "What's it to you lot?"

"We've been looking for you all afternoon!" Harry nearly shouted. "Half the Order is out searching for you!" His eyes slid from his brother to Kendrick. "The both of you."

"Where's Lily?" Kendrick asked, dreading the answer. Where ever she was, she had to be unreachable or there was an extreme emergency going on, as she knew that Nicholas was with him and was perfectly fine. There shouldn't have been cause for alarm at their being out of the house. No one should have been searching for them.

"St. Mungo's," Ginny said softly, when Harry, Neville, and Ron seemed to find it difficult to provide the answer. Looking solely at Nicholas, she said, "Your dad's hurt – bad."

As Kendrick watched Nicholas pale and the football slip from his arm and fall to the floor with a bounce, he understood the gut plummeting feeling that the kid was experiencing at that moment. He didn't want to care about the Potters. He didn't want to attach himself to a family that should have been his, but by fate, wasn't. Yet, as he watched Nicholas's lower lip tremble and his small frame begin to shake, he did the only thing he knew to do, did what he had wanted for someone to do for him so many times in his life and had only been granted the experience of so rarely.

It only took Nicholas a second to respond to the hug and wrap his arms around Kendrick and press his face into his assumed cousin's shirt.

Kendrick did not offer any false platitudes, but merely offered the boy silent support and strength. A part of him – a part he refused to acknowledge – was concerned for James as well, more deeply than he ought to be.

"How soon before you're allowed to see him?" Kendrick asked, looking up at Harry, who was watching the scene with a peculiar look in his eyes. He felt Nicholas shift in his arms and knew the boy's interest in his brother's answer. It was why he'd even posed the question to begin with.

"Once he's stable," Harry struggle to say and his jaw clenched closed in an effort to keep himself steady.

"I'll let Bill know that Nicky's been found," Ron said decisively, giving Harry's shoulder a supportive squeeze and sending his sister a meaningful look, before heading to the drawing room to no doubt floo the eldest Weasley son.

"Kendrick's got Nicky," Ginny said softly to Harry, taking Harry's hand in hers and tugging Harry towards the stairs that went to the second floor. "Rose, Joshua, and Chris need you."

Harry nodded stiffly. "We'll be in Rose's room," he said, his words clearly meant for Nicholas.

"I-I'm coming," Nicholas choked out and pulled away from Kendrick, only to surprise Kendrick by catching the dimension traveler's hand and pulling the elder dark haired youth towards the grand staircase with him.

_So much for keeping my distance,_ Kendrick thought with a mental sigh, as he followed the kid's insistence.

* * *

**AN:** Alright, this is the last of the pre-written stuff. This chapter is a previously unreleased chapter. It was short roughly 1500 words from being complete when I last stopped working on this story. I decided to go ahead and finish it. I make no promise on future chapters, but don't be too surprised, if I update again in the next month or so with entirely new material.


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